tihvavy  of  Che  l:heolo0ical  ^tmimxy 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 


•a^j). 


(Xy'dmuci  I  mUm 


SERMONS 

PREACHED    IN   THE  \*^  >^ 


.^^5^  '"'^ 


CHURCH  OF  OUR  SAVIOUR, 


JENKINTOWN,    PA. 


BY   THE   LATE  EECTOR, 

Key.  R.  FRANCIS  COLTON, 

PBOFESSOB  OF  HEBREW  IN  THE    PROT.  EPISCOPAL  DIVINITY    SCHOOL,  WEST    PHILADELPHIA 


PHILADELPHIA : 
EPISCOPAL   BOOK    STORE. 

1224  CHESTNUT  STREET. 


CONTENTS. 


NO.  PAGE. 

I.    INSPIEATION   OF   SCRIPTUEE, 1 

Gal.  vi.  11. 

II.    THE  CHEISTIAN  STANDARD, J5 

Rom.  xii.  3. 

III.    THE  BURNING  BUSH, 27 

Ex.  iii.  3. 


IV.    MOSES  AND  HIS  MISSION, 39 

DEVOTION. TO  DUTY  THAT  DOES  NOT  LOOK  TO  THE  EEWAED. 

Ex.  iii.  12. 

V.    THE  POWER  THAT  WORKETH  IN  US, 53 

Eph.  iii.  20. 

VI.    HEARING  AND  DOING, 66 

St.  James  i.  22. 


VII.    ISRAEL  S  DEMAND  FOR  A  KING, 79 

1  Sam.  xii.  12.  13. 


VIII.    SUNDAY  AND  ITS  OBSERVANCE, 92 

iii 


IV  CONTENTS. 

NO.  PAGE. 

IX.    all-saints', 104 

Heb.  xi.  40. 

X.    ST.  MATTHEW, 117 

THE  VALUE  OF  THE  OBSERVANCE    OF  SAINTS*  DAYS. 

XI.    THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM, 291 

HOW  CAN  I  DO  god's  WORK  ? 

St.  Matt.  viii.  8. 

XII.    STRENGTH  IN  THE  LORD, 142 

Eph.  vi.  10. 

XIII.    CHRIST  FOUND  IN  THE  PATH  OF  DAILY  DUTY,    154 
St.  John  xxi.  3. 

XIV.    CONFIRMATION, 167 


XV.    CHARITY  AND  ITS  ABUSES, 179 


XVI.    THE  POWER  OF  AN  ENDLESS  LIFE, 192 

Heb.  vii.  16. 

XVII.  CERTAINTY, 206 

1  St.  John  iv.  12,  13. 


INTEODUOTION. 


The  proper  disposal  of  the  M8S.  which  constitute  these  sermons,  has 
been  a  subject  of  anxious  thought.  They  were  written,  and  preached 
for  the  most  part  in  Jenkmtown,  Pa.,  where,  nearly  twelve  years  ago, 
the  Rev.  Richaed  Feancis  Colton,  then  in  the  first  ardor  of  youth, 
came  to  minister  as  Rector  in  the  Church  of  Our  Saviour. 

Combining  with  his  parish  duties  the  Professorship  of  Hebrew  in  the 
Divinity  School  at  West  Philadelphia,  he  lived  his  quiet  student  life 
away  from  the  city,  adding  day  by  day  to  the  vast  intellectual  store  that 
made  him  emphatically  "a  scholar,  and  a  ripe  and  good  one." 

He  had  been  ordained  to  the  Diaconate  in  the  Church  of  the  Atone- 
ment in  Philadelphia,  on  the  21st  of  February,  1866,  and  officiated  in 
that  church  until  June,  1867,  as  Assistant  to  the  Rev.  Benjamin  Wat- 
son, D.  D. 

When,  after  a  few  hours'  illness,  on  the  28th  of  July,  1880,  it  was 
known  that  he  had  been  taken  away,  all  in  his  parish  felt  it  to  be  a 
personal  loss.  It  seemed  impossible  to  associate  the  idea  of  death  with 
that  bright,  genial  nature  that  carried  an  atmosphere  of  health  wherever 
he  went. 

To  those  of  his  congregation  who  knew  him  best,  these  pages  will 
need  no  explanation.  They  will  reiterate  with  new  force,  as  of  a  voice 
from  the  dead,  their  message  of  earnest  appeal  to  duty,  and  their  keen 
appreciation  of  the  sorrows  and  the  struggles  that  he  had  so  often  shared 
in  sympathy. 


VI  INTRODUCTION. 

That  he  shrank  from  the  publication  of  any  of  his  sermons  during  his 
life  is  well  known  ;  but  now  that  he  can  speak  only  through  them,  they 
are  felt  to  be  too  sacred,  too  important  a  trust  to  be  withheld. 

They  are  printed  as  he  left  them,  without  revision,  even  when  it 
seems  obvious  that  his  own  hand  would  have  made  changes.  They  are 
the  best  memorial  of  a  noble,  manly  nature,  that  was  child-like  in  ten- 
derness for  suffering,  and  stern  to  severity  in  hatred  of  folly  and  shams. 

M.  E.  S. 
Philadelphia,  Feb.  1,  1882. 


SERMOJ^S. 


I. 

THE   INSPIRATION  OF   SCRIPTURE. 

"  Ye  see  how  large  a  letter  I  have  written  unto  you  with  mine  own 
hand." — Gal.  vi.  11. 

The  literal  meaning  of  St.  Paul's  words  in  this  passage 
is :  "  Ye  see  in  what  large  letters  I  have  written  unto 
you  with  mine  own  hand."  The  passage  has  received 
several  different  interpretations.  It  has  been  supposed  by 
Chrysostom  and  others  that  the  words  "  point  to  the  rude 
and  ill-formed  characters  in  which  the  letter  to  the  Gala- 
tians  was  written,  as  though  he  gloried  in  his  imperfect 
knowledge  of  Greek."  But  the  word  used  means  ''how 
large,"  and  "how  large"  only.  According  to  others,  we 
have  here  an  allusion  to  that  thorn  in  the  flesh  to  which 
he  elsewhere  refers,  and  which  was,  apparently,  in  part,  at 
least, -an  infirmity  of  vision.  The  explanation  of  the  way 
in  which  he  came  thus  to  speak  then,  will  harmonize  per-  ■ 
fectly  with  the  tone  that  prevails  throughout  this  Epistle 
— the  deep  personal  affection  which  leads  St.  Paul  with 
almost  passionate  yearning,  to  plead  with  his  spiritual 
children  to  give  up  the  delusions  into  which  false  Jewish 
teachers  were  leading  them;  — which  finds  vent  again  and 
again,  in  words  the  most  exquisitely  tender  and  pathetic. 

1 


2  THE    INSriRATION    OF    SCHirTURK. 

The  expression  here  employed  summons  up  the  picture  ot" 
the  care-worn  Apostle,  mourning  over  his  converts  in 
their  abandonment  of  the  great  spiritual  truths  he  had  so 
patiently  preached  to  them,  and  their  too-ready  relapse 
into  bondage  to  the  weak  and  beggarly  elements  of  the 
world,  to  work  unrighteozisness.  Unwilling  to  lose  any 
possible  advantage  in  his  earnest  and  sorrowful  pleadings 
with  them  —  unwilling  to  forego  the  influence  which 
might  perhaps  be  exerted  upon  them  by  a  more  vivid 
recollection  of  his  personal  sacrifices  for  them,  or  of  the 
love  which  had  once  made  them  willing  to  pluck  out  their 
own  eyes  if  they  might  only  relieve  his,  and  so  lighten  a 
little  the  burden  resting  on  his  overladen  shoulders, — he 
rejects  the  aid  of  the  scribe,  who,  as  we  learn  from  the 
ending  of  other  letters,  ordinarily  wrote  at  his  dictation, 
and,  painfully  struggling  with  his  dimmed  eyesight,  writes 
out  himself  in  full,  in  such  large  letters  as  alone  he  could 
plainly  discern,  the  utterance  of  his  grieved  and  wounded 
heart,  of  his  holy  indignation  at  those  who  had  dared  to 
undermine  by  false  teaching  the  foundations  he  had  so 
toilsomely  laid,  of  his  burning  logic,  consuming  the  hay 
and  stubble  which  they  had  tried  to  put  in  the  place  of 
that  one  foundation,  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord. 

Does  not  that  simple  word  bring  before  you  with  mar- 
vellous clearness,  not  only  the  personal  character  of  the 
great  Apostle,  but  the  spirit  in  which  he  labored — the 
passionate  self-devotion  with  which  he  gave  himself  up  to 
his  work  ?  Do  you  not  feel  as  though  the  eighteen  cen- 
turies that  part  us  were  done  away,  and  you  stood  face  to 
face  with  that  sublime  hero  of  the  faith?  Do  not  the 
burning  words  take  on  a  fresh  fire  and  meaning,  as  though 
from  some  old  mosaic  the  dustof  ages  were  cleared  away. 


THE   INSPIRATION   OF   SCKIPTURE.  3 

and  its  tints  shone  out  as  clear  as  when  Pompeii  was 
buried  in  the  ashes  of  Vesuvius. 

I  am  led  by  the  occurrence  in  the  Epistle  for  the  day  of 
these  words  of  St.  Paul,  to  think  of  the  general  subject 
which  they  suggest  —  I  mean  the  preservation  in  the 
Scriptures  of  the  personal  characteristics  of  the  holy  men 
of  old  whom  the  Holy  Ghost  moved  from  time  to  time  to 
write  them,  and  so  of  Inspiration  in  general.  The  whole 
question  of  the  Inspiration  of  the  Bible*  is  one  regarding 
which  there  prevail  mistakes  which  are  dangerous  in  both 
directions.  On  the  one  hand  you  find  ardent  believers 
who  feel  that  the  Bible  is  nothing  worth  unless  they  can 
hold  that  every  word  of  it  is  the  absolute  and  immediate 
utterance  of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  this  in  such  a  sense  that 
the  inspired  writer  was  no  more  than  the  passive  instru- 
ment in  the  hand  of  the  Spirit  —  no  more  than  a  pen 
moved  and  guided  by  God.  Seeing  how  much  in  Scrip- 
ture is  impossible  to  reconcile  with  this,  many,  on  the 
other  hand,  attach  to  the  variations  of  style, — to  the  large 
class  of  passages  like  the  text, — an  importance  so  exces- 
sive, that  they  can  nowhere  discern  anything  more 
than  the  utterances  of  men  who  enjoyed,  indeed,  a 
peculiarly  close  connection  with  God,  but  who  never- 
theless, spoke  in  a  manner,  and  delivered  truths  that 
need  no  explanation  further  than  their  possession  of  large 
spiritual  experience  and  deep  spiritual  insight. 

Either  view,  pushed  to  such  an  extreme,  is  guilty  of 
overlooking  facts  which  lie,  as  it  were,  upon  the  surface  of 
the  subject.  And,  inasmuch  as  none  should  be  so  eager 
to  have  and  to  hold  the  exact  truth  on  this  matter  as 
those  who  wish  to  reverence  God's  Eevelation  as  it  de- 
serves, none  should  be  readier  to  examine  the  facts  before 


4  THE   INSPIRATION   OF   SCRIPTURE. 

US  carefully  and  with  an  unbiased  mind.  Let  us  remem- 
ber how  the  truth  of  Christ's  incarnation  has  been  over- 
looked by  the  same  spirit  which  would  be  wise  beyond 
what  is  written ;  let  us  recall  the  lamentable  consequences 
of  that  superstitious  spirit  which  is  not  content  with  the 
simplicity  that  marks  God's  works,  but  which  runs  to 
seed  in  the  invention  of  miracles  and  visions.  And  wise 
in  the  knowledge  that  God  is,  above  all,  reasonable  in  his 
demands  upon  ofir  faith,  and  gives  us  the  why  and  the 
wherefore  for  even  the  mysteriousness  of  the  mysteries  he 
displays,  let  us  approach  this  subject  with  the  honest  de- 
sire to  see  what  the  record  itself  should  reasonably  lead 
us  to  believe. 

And  in  the  first  place,  does  any  portion  of  any  of  the 
numerous  books,  the  collection  of  which  forms  what  we  call 
the  Bible — the  Book — does  any  part  of  it  profess  to  be  an 
immediate  revelation  from  God  ?  In  the  book  of  Esther 
the  name  of  God  does  not  occur.  The  historical  books,  as 
to  their  historical  portion,  make  no  such  claim.  The  Gos- 
pels do  not  pretend  to  the  character  of  immediate  revela- 
tions. What  are  we  to  conclude  from  this?  That  they 
are  only  compilations,  written  by  men  with  no  greater 
claims  upon  our  belief  than  any  ordinary  annalist,  or  eye 
witness  of  the  facts  related  ?  If  such  were  the  necessary 
conclusion — if  there  were  no  reasons  to  lead  us  to  any  be- 
lief, what  then  ?  It  would  be  a  great  shock  to  our  ordi- 
nary beliefs  certainly ;  it  would  shatter  at  a  blow  much  of 
what  is  endeared  to  us  by  a  thousand  hallowed  associa- 
tions ;  it  would  make  needful  a  great  change  in  the  man- 
ner in  which  we  ordinarily  make  use  of  the  Bible ;  but 
still,  supposing  the  Scriptures  to  make  no  claims  of  this 
kind,— supposing  that  by  carefully  searching  we  could  find 


THE  INSPIEATION   OF   SCRIPTUEE.  6 

no  ground  for  our  customary  belief  except  the  tradition  of 
a  few  thousands  of  years,  how  could  we  dare  to  father 
upon  God  immediate  responsibility  for  that  which  we 
should  have  no  reason  for  attributing  directly  to  Him? 
Would  it  be  honoring  or  dishonoring  to  God  ?  Would  it 
be  pious  or  impious  ?  Ask  yourself  that  question,  and 
you  will  have  prepared  yourself  to  go  on  by  honestly 
answering :  "  No.  If  this  belief  is  only  a  vain  human 
tradition — if  it  has  no  real  ground,  I  must  give  it  up — 
I  have  no  right  to  ascribe  the  Bible  to  God." 

I  have  put  this  so  strongly  because  I  am  sure  it  is  the 
only  way  in  which  we  can  make  firm  the  foundation  of  our 
faith.  St.  Paul  himself  will  be  the  first  to  bid  you  be 
ready  to  give  a  reason  for  the  faith  that  is  in  you.  So 
only  can  you  stand  firm. 

I  have  said  that  certain  books  and  certain  parts  of  books 
make  no  express  claim  to  being  inspired.  Do  we  find  any- 
where a  claim  of  this  kind  ?  Unquestionably  we  do,  and 
a  claim  quite  unmistakable;  Constantly  is  this  the  case 
throughout  the  four  later  books  of  Moses,  and  in  the  Pro- 
phets, so  far  as  the  Old  Testament  is  concerned.  "  Thus 
saith  the  Lord"  is  the  perpetually  recurring  introduction 
to  the  sublime  messages  of  the  Hebrew  seers.  Even  grant- 
ing that  the  Gospels  do  not  profess  to  be  inspired,  they  still 
remain,  on  the  lowest  view,  narratives  of  the  life  and  death 
of  Christ,  written  at  all  events  by  men  who  were  eye-wit- 
nesses (as  St.  Matthew  and  St.  John),  or  men  having  ac- 
cess to  all  sources  of  knowledge  of  the  facts  they  relate. 
And  what  do  they  say  of  Christ's  way  of  speaking  about 
the  Old  Testament?  We  know  that  He  spoke  of  all  the 
three  divisions  into  which  the  Jews  distributed  their  sacred 
books — the  Law,  the  Psalms  and  the  Prophets ;   that  the 


6  THE   INSPIRATION   OF   SCRIPTURE. 

Jews  had  the  same  books  which  we  have  now,  and  that 
Christ  quotes  and  refers  to  them  as  being  the  Word  of  God. 
There  is  no  more  hesitation  in  His  manner  of  using  them — 
no  more  doubt  that  He  was  employing  the  words  of  infalli- 
ble truth — than  we  have  to-day.  Their  prophecies  concern- 
ing himself  He  makes  use  of  as  being  Divine  revelations, 
which  He  had  left  the  bosom  of  the  Father  to  fulfil.  Mere- 
ly casual  expressions,  as  we  might  think,  such  as  Jehovah's 
calling  himself  the  Grod  of  Abraham,  Isaac  and  Jacob, 
Christ  uses  to  prove  the  (then)  dimly  revealed  doctrine  of 
immortality,  as  though  every  word  of  the  Old  Testament 
were  pregnant  with  spiritual  truth.  He  exhorts  those  who 
were  cautiously  hesitating  about  the  acknowledgment  of 
His  claims,  to  search  the  Scriptures,  approves  their  belief 
that  in  them  they  had  eternal  life,  and  asserts  in  a  way 
which  can  only  mean  that  they  spoke  the  truth,  that  they 
are  they  which  testified  of  Him. 

I  address,  of  course,  only  those  who  believe  in  the 
divinity  of  Christ,  which  would  stand  firm  were  the  inspi- 
ration of  the  Gospels  denied.  Once  grant  the  Gospels  are 
honest  accounts  of  Christ,  and  you  have  a  character  which 
is  its  own  sufficient  evidence;  you  regard  His  words  as 
strong  enough  evidence  of  the  statements  He  makes. 
Standing  on  this  impregnable  foundation,  look  behind  you 
and  before  you — upon  the  Old  Testament,  and  upon  the 
Apostolic  writings  of  the  New  Testament.  You  find  Him 
distinctly  promising  that  his  Apostles  should  have  the 
Holy  Ghost  to  guide  them  into  all  truth,  bidding  them  not 
to  think  beforehand  what  they  should  say  when  summoned 
before  their  enemies,  because  the  Holy  Ghost  should  teach 
them  what  to  say,  **  For  it  is  not  ye  that  speak,  but  the 
spirit  of  your  Father  that  speaketh  in  you."     A  more  un- 


THE    INSPIRATION   OF   SCRIPTURE.  7 

limited  promise,  so  far  as  the  fulness  of  inspiration  is 
concerned,  it  would  be  hard  to  conceive.  I  ask  nothing 
further  than  the  acknowledgment  of  the  honesty  of  the 
report  given  of  His  words  by  St.  John,  His  most  intimate 
and  beloved  companion;  and  we  must  look  upon  the 
Apostles  as  men  to  whom  it  was  promised  that  the  Holy 
Ghost  should  take  of  the  things  of  Christ  and  show  them 
unto  them.  But  in  the  last  hours  of  our  Saviour's  life,  He 
prayed  not  for  them  only  who  then  slumbered  near  Him, 
but  for  those  as  well  who  should  afterwards  believe  on 
Him.  If  we  believe  as  Christians  in  the  divinity  of  Christ, 
which  I  here  make  no  attempt  to  prove,  such  thoughts 
must  continually  have  been  present  to  His  mind  ;  and  in- 
deed His  words  afford  frequent  glimpses  of  both  His  antici- 
pations for  the  future  of  His  Church,  and  His  immovable 
confidence  that  those  anticipations  would  be  fulfilled.  Does 
not  the  supposition  amount  to  a  certainty,  then,  that  the 
Holy  G-host,  which  was  promised  to  teach  the  Apostles 
what  to  say  and  how  to  say  it  before  courts  and  syna- 
gogues, would  not  desert  them  when  they  came  to  set 
down  in  writing,  for  various  exigencies,  the  truths  of 
Christ's  kingdom — that  this  divine  illumination  would  not 
be  confined  to  fleeting  words  uttered  by  the  lips,  but  would 
extend  likewise,  and  particularly,  to  the  writings  which 
were  to  hand  down  those  truths  in  permanent  shape  to 
generations  yet  unborn?  And  if,  as  Christ  always  as- 
sumes, the  Holy  Ghost  spake  of  old  by  Prophet  and 
Psalmist,  so  that  their  words  could  be  unhesitatingly  ap- 
plied to  the  proof  and  illustration  of  divine  truth,  if  the 
human  mind  could  serve  as  the  mouthpiece  of  the  divine 
mind  in  days  of  partial  light,  much  more,  if  possible,  was 
it  to  be  expected  that  under  the  dispensation  of  the  Spirit 


8  THE    INSPIRATION    OF    SCRIPTURE. 

that  mysterious  influence  should  be  permanent  and  dis- 
tinct. But  turn  from  suppositions  and  probabilities  :  ask 
the  Apostles  of  what  they  were  conscious  in  the  depths  of 
their  own  souls.  Does  St.  Paul  impress  you  as  a  weak- 
minded,  visionary  character,  easily  led  astray  by  flattering 
fancies,  or  as  a  clear-minded,  hard-headed,  thoroughly 
honest  man,  who  never  feared  to  do  or  say  anything  which 
he  believed  to  be  right,  and  yet  who  could  speak  when  he 
was  persuaded  he  was  wrong,  even  to  the  length  of  sacri- 
ficing his  life  to  the  propagation  of  the  Gospel  which  at 
first  he  had  persecuted?  What  did  he  think  of  the  way 
in  which  he  had  acquired  the  truth  he  so  fearlessly  pro- 
claimed? In  this  very  epistle,  wrung  from  his  very 
heart's  blood,  and  whose  words  were,  as  I  have  said,  pain- 
fully traced  in  those  great  letters  by  one  whose  bodily 
eyes  were  dim,  but  whose  spiritual  vision  was  certainly 
not  overcast — in  this  same  epistle  to  the  Galatians  he  says, 
''  I  neither  received  it  of  man,  neither  was  I  taught  it  but 
by  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ."  Again :  "  The 
things  that  are  freely  given  unto  us  of  God";  "We 
speak,  not  in  the  words  which  man's  wisdom  teacheth,  but 
which  the  Holy  Ghost  teacheth."  Again  and  again  in  St. 
Paul's  epistles,  in  those  of  St.  Peter  and  of  St.  John, 
particularly  in  the  Kevelation,  is  this  inspiration  referred 
to,  as  something  not  so  much  claimed  as  universally  ac- 
knowledged. 

At  last  the  canon  of  Scripture  is  closed.  For  a  time 
the  books  of  the  New  Testament  are  not  collected  into  a 
single  volume.  Do  we  find  those  who  knew,  or  those  who 
immediately  followed  the  Apostles,  ignorant  of  their 
writings,  or  of  the  Gospels  of  St.  Luke  or  St.  Mark,  or 
quoting  as  New  Testament  Scripture  anything  now  lost, 


THE   INSPIEATION   OF   SCRIPTURE.  \) 

or  acknowledged  as  uninspired  by  the  Churcli  of  after 
ages?  Not  at  all.  The  very  same  writings  which  now 
make  up  the  New  Testament,  though,  as  I  have  said,  not 
yet  collected  into  one  volume,  are  their  New  Testament  as 
they  are  ours.  Though  peculiar  circumstances  seem  to  have 
hindered  the  spread  of  St.  James  and  St.  Peter's  second 
Epistles,  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  and  the  Apocalypse, 
yet  we  find  them  early  quoted  as  Scripture ;  and  at  the 
very  time  when  what  are  called  the  books  of  the  Apocry- 
pha, or  forged  New  Testament,  were  universally  rejected, 
these  are  only  doubted  in  some  quarters  and  are  finally 
received  with  entire  unanimity.  The  church  was  very 
cautious  in  admitting  books  to  the  canon ;  but  the  exist- 
ence of  doubts,  followed  by  investigation  and  consequent 
abandonment  of  those  doubts,  constitutes  only  a  stronger 
proof  of  genuineness. 

Such  may  be  offered  as  a  rapid  summary  of  the  light 
in  which  we  are  taught  by  Scripture  itself  to  regard  the 
various  books  composing  the  Bible.  Christ  sets  His  seal 
to  each  of  the  Jewish  divisions  of  the  Old  Testament,  and 
promises  to  His  Apostles  full  illumination  by  the  Holy 
Ghost  in  discharging  their  duties.  The  Church,  begin- 
ning from  the  Apostles'  time,  carefully  sifts  the  evidences 
for  the  genuineness  of  inspired  writings,  rejects  a  con- 
siderable number,  and,  after  investigating  the  claims  of 
some  which  were  not  so  generally  known,  and  hence  were 
doubted,  makes  use  henceforth  of  our  New  Testament 
books,  and  the  Old  Testament,  as  the  only  works  laying 
rightful  claim  to  full  inspiration. 

So  far  I  have  left  untouched  the  question  :  ''  What  is 
inspiration? "  To  answer  it  let  us  look  again  at  the  facts. 
What  seems  the  object  of  these  books?     What  is  their 

1* 


10  THE   INSPIRATION   OF  SCRIPTURE. 

general  character  ?  Are  the  historical  books  full  in  their 
narrative  ?  By  no  means.  Beginning  with  the  creation, 
they  confine  themselves  almost  at  once  to  the  history  of 
one  comparatively  small  portion  of  the  human  race.  The 
circle  narrows  and  narrows,  with  only  an  occasional 
glimpse  of  what  is  going  on  outside  it.  The  history  of 
only  one  family  is  carried  down  to  the  Deluge.  When 
the  world  begins  again,  the  same  process  strikes  us ;  until 
at  last  and  definitely,  we  find  Abraham's  family  occupying 
the  entire  canvass.  Thenceforward,  till  the  division  of 
the  Jewish  monarchy,  and  beyond  it,  only  the  chosen 
people  engross  our  attention.  But  we  have  by  no  means 
a  consecutive  account  even  of  them.  Great  gaps  occur, 
embracing  many  years,  for  which  we  are  referred  to  the 
chronicles  of  the  kingdoms.  Important  wars  are  only 
incidentally  mentioned.  What  is  fully  related,  and  rela- 
ted too,  in  two  separate  works,  is  the  religious  history  of 
the  people,  and  what  has  any,  even  remote,  bearing  upon 
it.  The  worldly  wisdom  or  unwisdom  of  this  policy  or 
that,  though  plain  to  a  child,  is  not  commented  upon; 
while  the  religious  element,  as  the  cause  of  prosperity  or 
of  reverses,  is  everywhere  predominant.  It  is  plain  that 
this,  and  only  this,  is  the  prime  object  of  the  history, 
whether  compiled  from  public  or  private  documents  or,  so 
to  speak,  original.  The  same  thing  is  apparent  in  the 
poetical  books.  Whether  they  are  filled,  like  the  Book  of 
Proverbs,  with  the  application  of  God-fearing  common 
sense  to  the  duties  and  the  difficulties  of  every-day  life, 
or  embody,  like  Job,  the  profound  questionings  of  a  great 
soul  struggling  in  the  abyss  of  doubt,  and  emerging 
triumphantly  and  humbly  at  last  into  the  mountain  air  of 
faith ;  whether  as  in  the  Song  of  Solomon,  the  strength 


THE   INSPIEATION   OF   SCRIPTURE.  11 

and  purity  and  constancy  of  wifely  love  be  the  subject,  or 
as  in  Ecclesiastes,  the  hollowness  of  sensuality,  ambition 
or  mere  culture, — the  impotence  of  aught,  save  the  fear  of 
God  and  obedience  to  His  commandments,  to  satisfy  the 
most  gifted  soul ;  —  or  again,  as  in  the  Psalms,  the  whole 
range  of  spiritual  truths  and  emotions,  public  and  private, 
past,  present  and  future,  individual  and  national ;  —  what- 
ever be  the  theme,  it  always  is  one  that  finds  its  place 
within  the  generous  limits  of  divine  truth,  in  its  direct 
application  to  the  immortal  spirit  of  man.  The  Prophets 
and  the  Books  of  the  New  Testament  are  hardly  more 
truly,  though  they  are  more  distinctly,  directed  to  this 
one  end.  General  history,  military  history,  national  his- 
tory as  such,  is  not  aimed  at :  the  royal  archives  exist  only 
in  extracts  in  books  that  have  another  object;  the  book 
of  the  wars  of  the  Lord  has  been  allowed  to  perish. 
Scientific  truth  is  not  the  object :  Solomon's  book  of 
botany  has  been  lost.  The  preservation  of  national  bal- 
lads, or  even  Teligious  poems,  is  not  sought :  of  the  book 
of  Jasher  we  have  only  a  few  fragments.  Nothing  then, 
which  is  distinctly  appropriate  to  such  objects  need  be 
looked  for  in  the  Bible ;  you  are  not  to  demand  treatises 
merely  historical,  ethical,  scientific,  or  literary ;  you  are 
not. to  wonder  at  its  being  said  that  the  sun  rises  and  sets, 
or  stands  still.  According  to  the  current  conceptions  of 
men,  not  according  to  scientific  demands,  will  the  language 
be  shaped ;  and  however  the  miracle  of  Joshua  may  have 
been  performed,  it  was  a  miracle,  and  is  told  in  the  most 
natural  way.  You  are  not  to  expect  that  the  Greek  of 
the  New  Testament  should  be  the  purest  Athenian  Greek ; 
it  is  in  the  dialect  used  by  those  for  whom  it  was 
written.     The  Bible  claims  only  to  be  the  voice  of  God 


12  THE   INSPIRATION   OF   SCRIPTURE. 

speaking  infallibly  to  the  soul  of  man ;  and,  while  we  may- 
expect  that  it  shall  be  truthful  always,  in  reason,  we  are 
not  to  demand  that  it  shall  reveal  the  true  theory  of  the 
solar  system,  or  anything  of  the  kind.  It  speaks  honestly, 
although  it  speaks  according  to  men's  common  notions  of 
what  we  call  science.  Keligious  truth  alone  being  its 
object,  it  speaks  authoritatively  and  finally  on  that.  It 
does  not  profess  to  give  you,  in  that  respect,  a  certain 
amount  of  truth,  mixed  with  an  indefinite  quantity  of 
error.  The  way  in  which  Christ  and  His  Apostles  treat 
the  Old  Testament  is  the  way  in  which  we  are  to  treat 
both  the  Old  and  the  New  Testament.  Infallible  moral 
and  religious  truth  is  revealed  in  them  by  God. 

But  the  question  with  which  I  began  recurs  here.  How 
are  we  to  explain  the  difference  of  style  in  different  parts  ? 
How  can  styles  so  different  be  all  the  direct  inspiration  of 
the  Holy  Ghost?  St.  Peter's  words  are  the  fullest  answer 
to  this,  and  the  fullest  proof  of  the  way  in  which,  as  I 
have  just  said,  the  words  of  the  Scripture  at  large  are  to 
be  regarded.  "  Prophecy  came  not  in  old  time  by  the  will 
of  man,  but  holy  men  of  God  spake  as  they  were  moved 
by  the  Holy  Ghost."  The  supposition  of  a  mere  general 
impulse  to  write  or  speak  what  is  in  the  main  truthful, 
will  not  allow  us  to  treat  the  Bible  as  Christ  treated  it, 
with  reverence  for  its  very  words.  And  yet  the  manifest 
working  of  individual  minds,  character,  education,  shows 
that  the  Holy  Ghost  made  use  of  these,  and  did  not  treat 
Isaiah,  or  St.  Paul,  or  St.  John  as  mere  instruments,  having 
nothing  to  do  with  the  message  delivered  by  them.  Here, 
then,  we  have  two  sets  of  facts :  on  the  one  hand,  judging 
by  Christ's  treatment  of  the  Old  Testament,  the  verbal 
inspiration  of  the  Bible  ;    on  the  other,  the  free  working 


THE   INSPIRATION   OF    SCRIPTURE.  13 

of  individual  peculiarities.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  how 
these  two  facts  co-exist ;  I  only  say  they  do  co-exist,  and 
that  he  who  overlooks  either  is  cutting  away  the  founda- 
tion on  which  the  other  reposes.  To  quote  the  words  of  a 
theologian  of  whom  our  diocese  and  the  Chiirch  at  large 
may  well  be  proud,  ''  The  nature  of  inspiration  is  this — 
a  miraculous  impulse  from  the  Holy  Ghost  to  write  certain 
things,  reaching  on  in  its  controlling  influence  to  the  ac- 
complishment of  the  writing  of  Scripture  itself,  bringing 
into  exercise  and  using  all  the  powers,  acquirements  and 
activities  of  the  human  writer,  leaving  his  individual 
characteristics,  both  intellectual  and  moral,  in  full  play ; 
yet  always  so  as  to  secure  that  the  result  shall  be  infal- 
lible truth;  that  the  Word  written  shall  be  properly 
'  the  Word  of  God.'  " 

How  to  understand  so  peculiar  an  operation,  I  do  not 
pretend  to  tell.  Prophecy  is  but  another  form  of  the  same 
mysterious  activity  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Admitting  it,  we 
admit  the  principle  of  verbal  inspiration.  But  we  are  not, 
I  hope,  to  learn  to-day  that  Revelation  is  a  mystery,  nor 
to  see  why  it  must  of  necessity  be  a  mystery.  We  should 
only  ask  to  know  what  the  record  itself  tells  of  its  source, 
of  its  character,  and  of  the  respect  we  owe  to  it.  Let  me 
say  in  closing  that  it  assures  us  by  its  general  tenor,  as 
well 'as  by  specific  declarations,  that  all  Scripture  is  given 
by  inspiration  of  God.  Our  Saviour  showed  us  how  we 
are  to  revere  its  very  words.  We  see  in  it  the  revelation 
which  it  purports  to  give  of  the  past  and  the  future.  We 
find  it  ''  quick  and  powerful,  and  sharper  than  any  two- 
edged  sword,  piercing  even  to  the  dividing  asunder  of 
soul  and  spirit,  and  a  discerner  of  the  thoughts  and 
intents  of  the  heart."     And  yet  in  this  complex  message 


J 

14  THE   INSPIRATION   OF   SCRIPTURE. 

we  discern  no  less  clearly  the  voice  of  Paul,  of  John,  of 
Job.  We  are  concerned  not  so  much  to  have  a  clear  un- 
derstanding of  how  all  this  comes  to  be,  but  only  how  we 
may  at  the  same  time  reverently  hearken  to  Him  whose 
Almighty  Word  chaos  and  darkness  heard  and  took  their 
flight,  and  also  may  hear  speaking  with  us  face  to  face  the 
holy  men  of  old  whose  tones  come  to  us  unmingled 
through  all,  like  two  opposite  currents  of  electricity 
through  the  one  invisible  cable,  sunk  into  caverns  of  the 
mysterious  ocean. 


II. 

THE   CHRISTIAN  STANDARD. 

"  I  say,  through  the  grace  given  unto  me,  to  every  man  that  is  among 
you,  not  to  think  more  highly  of  himself  than  he  oiight  to  think  ;  but 
to  think  soberly,  according  as  God  hath  dealt  to  every  man  the  measure 
of  faith." — RoM.  xii.  3. 

The  direction  things  are  taking  in  tlie  world  has  many 
consequences,  not  at  first,  nor  to  every  man,  clearly  dis- 
cernible. Look  where  we  may,  we  find  that  governments 
are  beginning  to  give  to  all  classes  of  people  a  larger  and 
more  direct  share  in  the  management  of  public  affairs. 
Even  where  the  course  of  history  for  hundreds  of  years 
has  been  towards  oppression,  we  find  that  more  humane 
and  enlightened  principles  begin  to  be  acted  upon.  Russia 
frees  her  millions  of  serfs  hardly  better  off  than  were  our 
own  negro  slaves  ten  years  since,  and  admits  them  to  .the 
class  of  citizens  (for  the  present  condition  of  things  can 
hardly  be  more  than  temporary).  As  the  result  of  a  long 
and  terrible  civil  war,  our  slaves  take  their  place  as 
American  citizens,  and  whether  capable  of  discharging 
their' new  duties  or  not,  have  those  duties  allotted  to  them^ 
Prussia,  England,  Spain,  all  are  moving  in  the  same  direc- 
tion— that  which  removes  from  human  beings  the  old 
fetters  by  which  they  were  bound,  whether  the  chains  be 
simply  deprivation  of  political  rights  and  privileges,  or 
actual  servitude.  And  we  ourselves,  whether  wisely  or 
unwisely,  time  will  show,  have  opened  all  offices  to  public 
competition,  have  left  everything  that  could  possibly  be 

15 


16  THE   CHRISTIAN   STANDARD. 

left,  to  the  decision  of  the  people  at  the  polls,  making  the 
most  ignorant  and  incapable  man  of  just  as  much  import- 
ance there,  as  we  make  him  who  is  most  fully  qualified  to 
judge  the  questions  of  the  day  with  calmness  and  imparti- 
ality. 

Such,  no  doubt,  is  the  direction  in  which  things  are 
drifting  throughout  the  civilized  world  :  what  is  to  be  the 
end  of  it  God  only  knows.  But  in  the  meantime  there 
are  certain  consequences  resulting  from  this  state  of  affairs 
which  are  unquestionably  good,  while  there  are  certain 
others  which  are  as  unquestionably  bad.  Among  the 
former  one  must  be  aware  of  an  increasing  self-respect  on 
the  part  of  him  who  is  thus  made,  politically,  the  equal  of 
others,  provided  he  has  the  elements  of  a  manly  character 
within  him.  Air  and  sunlight  are  not  more  wholesome 
for  a  tree  than  are  liberty  and  equality  for  an  honest,  en- 
ergetic and  capable  man.  Then  again,  in  rural  districts 
at  least,  sharing  in  political  rights  and  duties,  enlarges  a 
man's  life.  It  gives  him  other  and  larger  things  to  think 
and  act  about,  than  are  to  be  found  among  his  scattered 
neighbors,  or  among  the  affairs  of  his  own  narrow  com- 
munity. As  we  find  it  in  this  country  more  particularly, 
where  newspapers  are  so  plentiful  and  so  widely  read,  no 
unprejudiced  person  need  doubt  that  the  possession  of  a 
vote  tends  to  elevate  and  enlarge  many  a  mind  that  would 
under  other  circumstances  have  lived  its  allotted  years 
hardly  on  a  higher  level  than  that  of  the  brute.  The 
peasantry  of  some  European  countries  as  compared  with 
the  nearest  corresponding  class  among  us,  may  be  taken 
as  sufficient  proof  of  this. 

So  much  for  one  side  of  the  matter.     But  on  striking 
the  balance,  we   find  that  we  must  take  into  account  a 


THE  CHRISTIAN  STANDARD.  17 

great  many  other  things,  ordinarily  lost  sight  of  in  our 
more  enthusiastic  moments  of  pride  in  the  institutions  of 
America — things  calculated  to  lessen  very  greatly  our 
contempt  for  other  countries  and  their  systems.  We  find 
for  instance,  that  a  terrible  deal  of  corruption  is  caused 
by  making  a  vote  so  common  as  to  give  its  possessor  little 
or  no  pride  in  it.  The  utter  ignorance  of  a  large  propor- 
tion of  voters,  again,  is  the  reason  why  impostors  and 
scoundrels  make  them  so  easy  a  prey,  while  really  honest 
and  competent  men,  unless  they  devote  their  lives  to  poli- 
tics, must,  as  a  general  thing,  stand  in  the  background, 
because  they  cannot,  without  losing  their  self-respect,  con- 
descend to  practice  the  crafty,  sneaking  acts  of  the  profes- 
sional politician.  All  these  things,  and  many  more  of  the 
same  general  kind,  need  to  be  always  remembered  by 
every  American  citizen,  lest  he  should  be  overmuch  pufied 
up  by  what  is  really  fitted  to  arouse  patriotic  pride,  and 
especially,  lest  he  should  think  that  politics  can  do  without 
his  own  informed,  honest  interest  and  activity. 

There  is,  however,  one  other  consequence  of  which  I 
must  speak,  because  it  connects  what  I  have  said  with 
what  I  have  to  say.  It  has  a  certain  influence,  no  doubt, 
upon  politics ;  but  only  in  the  sense  that  what  a  man  is 
must  afiect  all  his  actions.  It  is  this  :  finding  himself  the 
equal  at  the  polls,  of  every  and  any  one  else,  however 
prominent  otherwise,  many  a  man  thinks  himself  equal  to 
all  others  in  every  way.  If  the  question  be  one  of  large 
and  general  interest,  the  man  who  has  not  an  idea,  or  a 
principle,  counts  for  as  much  as  another  who  is  intelligent 
and  cultivated,  and  hence  arises  very  often,  a  brutal  desire 
to  exercise  his  power  simply  in  order  to  annoy  a  neighbor 
who  is  envied  on  account  of  superior  wealth.     Even  where 


18  THE   CHRISTIAN   STANDARD. 

this  low  and  coarse  jealousy  does  not  exist,  there  is 
a  great  temptation  to  undervalue  those  things  which  really 
make  one  man  another's  better.  I  do  not  feel  called  upon 
— no  man  is  called  upon — to  respect  another  for  his  money 
alone.  That  is  one  of  the  most  contemptible  and  debas- 
ing things  in  the  world.  But  the  qualities  which  com- 
monly result  in  the  acquisition  of  money,  these,  if  honesty 
be  among  them,  are  worthy  of  all  honor,  in  their  proper 
place.  In  a  word,  character,  goodness,  honor,  enterprise, 
truthfulness  are  worthy  of  respect ;  and  he  wholly  misun- 
derstands the  meaning  of  our  boasted  American  equality 
who  thinks,  as  so  many  of  us  seem  to  think,  that  because 
one  vote  goes  for  as  much  as  another,  therefore  one  man 
must  be  the  equal,  in  other  things,  of  all  others.  Especi- 
ally is  this  ridiculous  and  short-sighted  disposition  notice- 
able in  regard  to  other  qualities,  which  are  not  even  so 
readily  tested  in  their  practical  effects  as  those  of  which  I 
have  been  speaking.  Industry,  thrift,  and  so  on,  generally 
make  so  plain  a  mark,  and  bring  in  so  rich  results,  that 
no  man  can  help  acknowledging  their  value  to  a  certain 
point.  But  there  are  other  qualities  which  are  even  more 
worthy  of  respect  than  these,  inasmuch  as  they  have  still 
more  to  do  with  making  a  finished  and  complete  character. 
Education,  refinement,  courtesy,  are  among  these;  and, 
for  myself,  I  must  say  that  these  arouse  far  higher  respect 
in  my  mind  than  those  f^iculties  which  simply  enable  one 
to  make  money.  Sometimes  even  these  are  recognized  as 
they  should  be;  but  as  a  general  thing,  I  think  every 
thoughtful  person  must  admit  that  among  the  coarsest,  the 
most  ignorant,  the  most  narrow-minded  of  our  people 
there  is  a  disposition  to  think  and  talk  as  though  they 
were  fully  equal  to   any  of  their  fellow-citizens — to  pro- 


THE   CHRISTIAN   STANDARD.  19 

nounce  opinions  on  things  they  know  nothing  about — to 
take  even  a  pride  and  satisfaction  in  showing  to  every  one 
that  they  do  not  admit  any  living  man  to  be  their  superior. 
Wherever  this  temper  is  called  out  by  airs  of  superiority 
not  justified  by  facts,  it  may  be  excused ;  there  are  few 
things  more  foolish  or  more  ridiculous  than  such  preten- 
sions when  not  grounded  on  real  goodness  and  merit, 
which  is  precisely  the  case  in  which  you  never  see 
them. 

What  I  have  been  aiming  at  all  along  is  to  show  that 
our  political  system  gives  strength  to  a  disposition  which 
human  nature  has  already  quite  strongly  enough — the 
disposition  to  think  more  highly  of  one's  self  than  one 
ought  to  think — to  undervalue  those  things  which  really 
give  a  claim  upon  our  respect  and  admiration.  But  that 
which  is  the  immediate  cause  of  it  all  is  the  want  of  a 
proper  standard  by  which  to  judge  of  what  makes  a  lofty 
and  noble  man.  Without  this,  no  discipline  can  make  us 
noble.  With  this,  we  shall  be  doubly  elevated  in  our 
characters ;  for  there  is  nothing  better  fitted  to  ennoble  a 
man  than  genuine  respect  for  what  is  good ;  while  this  re- 
quires as  its  condition,  a  correct  notion  of  what  good  is. 

Now  in  the  text,  the  Apostle  Paul  gives  us  a  very  clear 
notion  of  what  this  standard  is.  The  Koman  Christians 
to  whom  he  was  writing,  appear  to  have  become  involved 
in  a  very  childish  dispute  about  the  prominence  to  which 
each  was  entitled.  It  was  childish;  and  yet  it  was  just 
such  a  matter  as  men  often  get  involved  in,  for  want  of 
that  true  standard  of  goodness  and  merit  without  which 
very  absurd  things  monopolize  a  deal  of  the  world's  regard. 
You  remember  that  in  that  early  age  of  the  Church,  when 
multitudes  could  recollect  the  day  of  Pentecost,  and  the 


20  THE   CHRISTIAN    STANDARD. 

descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  flame  upon  the  Apostles, 
there  was  a  class  of  divine  gifts  or  "  charisms  "  as  they 
were  called,  very  frequently  bestowed  by  the  Spirit  of  God 
upon  members  of  the  Church — gifts  which  gradually 
ceased  after  the  Apostles*  death.  Some  of  these,  though 
not  all  of  the  most  remarkable  of  them,  are  mentioned  in 
the  chapter  from  which  the  text  is  taken.  Among  them 
were  prophecy,  gifts  of  healing,  and  performing  other 
miracles,  and  the  power  of  speaking  languages  they  had 
never  learned  (though  the  person  who  spoke  them  did  not, 
ordinarily,  understand  what  he  said,  but  it  had  to  be 
translated  for  the  edification  of  the  people  by  some  one 
else,  who,  like  the  other,  did  not  understand  the  language 
except  when  under  the  immediate  influence  of  the  Spii^it). 
Now  the  persons  thus  honored  began,  it  would  seem,  to 
take  undue  pride  in  these  gifts,  and  to  think,  each  one, 
that  he  was  superior  to  the  rest.  Forgetting  that  these 
powers,  just  like  the  grace  which  had  regenerated  his 
soul,  were  the  free  and  undeserved  gift  of  God,  they 
became  puffed  up,  and  no  longer  thought  soberly  of  them- 
selves as  they  ought  to  think.  Therefore  St.  Paul  found 
it  necessary  quietly  to  rebuke  them,  and  show  them  where 
they  were  making  a  grievous  mistake.  He  pointed  out 
that  great  Christian  truth,  of  which  we,  too,  need  often  to 
be  reminded,  that  the  Church  was  like  a  body,  which  must 
have  a  great  many  different  parts  in  order  to  do  its  work 
effectually,  and  that,  instead  of  contending  for  superiority, 
they  should  rather  feel  that  each  was  closely  connected 
with  every  other.  In  harmony  and  love,  not  in  wrangling 
and  disputing  about  position,  they  were  to  do  God's  work 
and  save  their  own  souls.  But  if  (or  since)  they  must 
have   a   standard,  let   them   remember  that  he  was  the 


.     THE   CHRISTIAN   STANDARD.  21 

greatest  among  them  who  had  m.ost  faith.  Not  the  man 
who  spoke  most  strange  languages  when  under  the  special 
influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  not  the  man  who  could  most 
eloquently  expound  his  neighbor's  unknown  message  from 
on  high,  not  he  who  could  heal  most  diseases,  or  who 
could  see  most  clearly  what  was  going  to  happen  to  the 
Church — none  of  these  was  entitled  to  the  highest  place 
of  honor;  but  he  who  believed  most  heartily  in  God,  and 
clung  to  his  Divine  Father  with  the  most  sincerity  and 
consistency.  ITe  was  the  best  Christian,  and  as  such,  was 
the  man  to  honor.  In  proportion  as  a  man  had  this  gift 
of  faith,  he  might  make  himself  easy  about  precedence 
and  place.  He  would  find  in  God  all  the  comfort  and 
pride  that  it  was  good  for  him  to  have. 

What  was  sound  advice  for  the  Eoman  Christians  in  the 
first  century,  I  suppose  will  fit  us  quite  as  well  in  the 
nineteenth.  If  we  are  inclined  to  make  much  of  ourselves 
— to  think  that  we  amount  to  a  good  deal  more  than  any 
body  else — if  we  find  in  ourselves  a  disposition  to  criticize 
and  pull  to  pieces  what  everybody  is  doing  because  we  are 
so  very,  very  wise — if  we  undertake  to  pass  our  solemn 
judgments  on  religious,  or  Church,  or  political  matters 
that  we  have  never  studied  and  know  nothing  particular 
about,  when  people  who  have  devoted  much  time  and  at- 
tention to  them  give  opinions  difiering  from  what  we  hap- 
pen to  fancy — under  all  these  various  circumstances  it  may 
easily  be  that  we  are  not  simply  making  fools  of  ourselves, 
but  likewise,  are  encouraging  in  our  souls  something  that 
will  make  it  much  harder  for  us  to  enter  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven.  It  is  not  only  because  Christ  said  so  that  we  feel 
that  undue  pride  stands  terribly  in  the  way  of  true  spirit- 
uality.    Our  every-day  experience  shows  that  it  has  a 


22  THE   CHRISTIAN   STANDARD. 

similiar  influence  in  hindering  us  from  getting  any  good 
qualities  we  may  have  into  working  order.  We  do  not 
work  patiently  to  find  out  the  truth  of  something;  we 
jump  hastily  at  an  opinion  ;  and  whatever  we  first  think, 
hit  or  miss,  must  be  right  because  we  have  thought  it,  or 
caught  it.  We  can  never  grow  any  wiser,  because  we 
think  we  already  know  everything  that  is  worth  knowing. 
We  cannot  join  in  anything  where  we  have  not  the  first 
place ;  and  so  we  join  in  nothing  at  all.  Hold  a  pin's  head 
close  enough  to  your  eye,  and  you  will  find  that  it  hides 
from  you  a  great  number  of  things  a  good  deal  larger  than 
you  are.  So  this  foolish  pride  and  self-esteem  kills  your 
spiritual  life  by  making  everything  else  seem  small,  and  by 
giving  birth  to  the  feeling  that  if  you  cannot  be  at  the 
head  you  will  do  nothing. 

See  how  finely  St.  Paul's  advice  meets  this  danger.  We 
are  to  measure  ourselves  and  our  importance  by  our  faith. 
Now  no  man  can  have  true  faith  who  has  not  at  the  same 
time  a  deep  feeling  of  his  own  weakness  and  sinfulness. 
Ask  yourself  what  times  have  been  fullest  of  spiritual  joy 
and  trust.  Were  they  not  precisely  those  periods  when 
you  felt  most  humble — most  capable  of  throwing  your 
whole  self  into  the  arms  of  God,  and  asking  him  to  do 
with  you  as  he  thought  best  ?  Does  not  your  soul  get 
heavier — do  you  not  find  prayer  and  meditation  harder, 
when  you  are  satisfied  with  yourself,  and  have  lost  that 
deep  feeling  of  the  absolute  necessity  of  being  continually 
bathed  in  the  atoning  blood  of  Christ  ?  No  answer  but 
one  can  be  given  to  these  questions  by  any  man  who 
knows  from  his  own  experience  what  rcHgion  is.  We  can 
lay  it  down  as  a  universal  rule,  that  when  a  Christian  is 
humble,  then  he  is  growing ;  when  ho  is  puffed  up,  then 


THE    CHRISTIAN    STANDARD.  23 

his  growth  toward  God  is  very  feeble  or  utterly  at  a 
standstill. 

There  is,  of  course,  such  a  thing  as  understanding  what 
you  know,  and  what  you  can  do,  and  taking  an  honest 
pride  in  the  capacity  which  God  has  given  you,  and  which 
you  have  patiently  cultivated,  to  the  best  of  your  ability. 
There  is  likewise  such  a  thing  as  independence,  and  a  de- 
termination to  hold  your  own  against  people  who  would 
(as  we  say)  "  impose  upon  "  you.  They  are  both  things 
which  are  important  to  true  manliness  and  worthy  of  all 
respect.  But  they  are  also  very  easy  to  push  too  far.  And 
the  best  means  of  avoiding  that  mistake,  is  to  cultivate 
Christian /a-it A  which  rounds  and  completes  the  character, 
because  it  brings  us  more  into  the  likeness  of  Him  who  is 
the  model  on  which  our  lives  are  to  be  shaped.  With  a 
deep  feeling  of  our  dependence  upon  God  we  can  run  but 
little  risk  of  thinking  too  highly  of  ourselves  on  account 
of  what  He  has  given  us.  With  true  love  for  Christ,  there 
will  arise  of  itself  a  love  towards  our  fellow-creatures, 
which  will  instruct  us,  better  than  any  formal  rules  ever 
can,  what  are  our  rights,  and  above  all,  what  are  our  duties 
towards  them.  We  shall  solve  many  a  difficulty,  and 
avoid  many  a  snare,  by  fixing  our  attention  not  so  much 
on  what  is  due  to  us,  as  on  what  is  due  to  others,  and 
especially  to  Christ. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  effects  upon  ourselves  of  cultivating 
humility  and  faith  in  our  own  souls.  But  there  is  another 
matter  directly  connected  with  the  subject,  which  may 
fairly  enough  have  been  in  St.  Paul's  mind  when  he  wrote 
the  words  of  the  text.  And  that  is  the  matter  of  our 
standard  of  judgment,  not  only  for  our  own  lives  but  for 
human  life  in  general.     The  two  are,  indeed,  very  closely 


24  THE   CHRISTIAN  STANDARD. 

connected.  He  who  makes  the  attainment  of  spirituality 
the  great  aim  of  his  own  life  will  not  be  apt  to  lay  too 
much  stress  upon  the  extent  to  which  others  have  won 
prizes  inferior  to  that.  But  still,  it  is  of  sufficient  im- 
portance to  be  dwelt  upon  for  a  few  minutes, — the  effect 
of  making  this  the  rule  by  which  he  shall  estimate  what 
people  are  so  busy  about  in  the  world. 

It  is  enormously  difficult :  that  is  the  first  thing  that 
strikes  us.  The  prizes  of  life  are  so  often  won  by  men  that 
have  faith  in  very  little  which  we  can  call  wholly  good, 
and  their  success  is  so  brilliant  and  dazzling,  that  it  needs, 
in  many  a  case,  a  decided  struggle  before  a  man  can  de- 
liberately put  the  two  together  and  decide  which  is  seri- 
ously the  more  desirable,  worldly  success  and  no  faith,  or 
faith  and  little  or  no  worldly  success.  But  there  is  not 
much  genuineness  about  anyone's  Christianity  who  finds  it 
too  much  for  him  to  do.  In  its  difficulty,  to  tell  the  truth, 
lies  a  great  deal  of  its  importance.  To  succeed  in  making 
the  choice  in  the  depth  of  your  own  heart,  and  not  for  the 
purpose  of  saying  so,  is  itself  to  have  won  a  pretty  com- 
plete victory  over  one  of  the  strongest  positions  the  Devil 
holds  in  your  heart.  By  any  one  who  has  deliberately 
made  the  choice,  an  immense  advantage  is  gained.  In  the 
first  place,  he  is  no  longer  exposed  to  a  vast  number  of  the 
most  subtle  and  dangerous  forms  of  temptation,  which,  if 
yielded  to,  very  surely  eat  out  all  the  nobleness  and  puri- 
ty of  his  Christian  character.  He  will  be  free  from 
envy, — that  basest  and  most  harmful  sin ;  he  will  be  free 
from  worldliness  in  its  various  forms,  dragging  down  the 
soul  from  the  heights  to  which  the  divine  love  has  lifted  it, 
and  besmirching  its  pureness  with  the  mire  and  filth  of 
greed  and  covetousness,  and  every  hateful  meanness.    And 


THE   CHRISTIAN  STANDARD.  25 

on  the  other  hand,  he  will  have  set  before  him  an  ideal 
which  will  be  forever  shedding  down  its  kindly  influence 
upon  his  endeavors  after  better  things.  One  or  two  such 
people  many  of  you  know,  and  you  know  likewise,  that  to 
sit  and  talk  with  them  for  half  an  hour  gives  you  strength 
to  quell  your  lower  nature,  and  sends  a  flush  of  health  and 
vigor  through  the  best  part  of  you  such  as  a  plunge  into 
a  cold  bath  sends  tingling  through  every  nerve  of  your 
body.  If  such  be  the  eflPect  of  a  simple  determination  to 
estimate  things  by  their  religious,  or  true  side,  when  you 
meet  with  it  in  another  man,  what  must  not  its  force  be 
when  generally  adopted  as  your  own  standard !  Any  one 
who  has  ever  tried  it  may  answer.  It  so  marvellously 
strips  away  their  attractions  from  the  objects  that  tempt 
us,  but  which  in  our  inmost  hearts  we  know  to  be  beneath 
the  notice  of  our  immortal  souls — it  so  stimulates  us  in  the 
pursuit  of  holiness  and  God — it  so  firmly  and  yet  so  kindly 
rebukes  us  when  we  are  inclined  to  go  astray,  that  we 
know  it  to  be  an  inspiration  from  Heaven,  sent  to  make 
the  upward  path  easier  for  our  sluggish  feet. 

To  have  such  a  standard  by  which  to  measure  the 
thousand  pursuits  that  are  constantly  pressing  themselves, 
uncalled,  upon  our  attention,  is  a  great  help  towards  form- 
ing a  judgment  about  them  which  will  cleanse  and  raise 
our  souls.  As  such,  dear  friends  and  fellow-Christians,  I 
present  it  to  you.  Throughout  our  busy  lives  we  all  need 
something  that  may  humble  us,  and  cause  us  to  hunger 
after  the  spiritual  food  that  is  to  be  gotten  from  God  alone. 
We  shall  be  tempted  to  think  of  ourselves  and  our  doings 
with  undue  pride — to  forget  the  hole  and  the  rock  whence  we 
are  digged — to  think  of  what  we  are  as  the  result  of  our  own 
exertions.  On  the  other  hand,  from  the  tone  of  the  world 
2 


26  THE   CHRISTIAN   STANDARD. 

around  us  will  come  only  too  many  allurements  to  set  up 
the  success  which  is  measured  by  money  and  influence  as 
the  great  end  of  human  life.  From  both  dangers  we  may, 
through  God's  help,  be  freed  by  adopting  as  our  Christian 
motto  this  admonition  of  St.  Paul :  "  Think  of  yourselves 
soberly,  according  as  God  hath  dealt  "to  every  man  the 
measure  of  faith."  Let  us  carry  it  away  with  us  then 
to  moderate  our  foolish  self-sufficiency,  to  give  us  a  worthy 
and  Christian  standard  of  action,  and  to  inspire  us  with 
the  strength  that  comes  from  living  as  men  should  do 
who  stand  in  the  constant  presence  of  "  Him  who  is  in- 
visible." 


III. 

THE  BURNING  BUSH. 

SIXTH   SUNDAY   AFTEE   TKIFITY — FIEST   LESSON. 

"  And  Moses  said :  I  will  now  turn  aside  and  see  this  great  sight,  why 
the  bush  is  not  burnt." — Ex.  iii.  3. 

Whatever  differences  there  may  be  in  other  respects 
as  to  our  view  of  human  life,  no  one  who  has  had  any  large 
experience  of  it  has  failed  to  learn  that  one  of  its  many 
needs  is  the  power  to  endure  the  ills  (as  we  call  them) 
with  which  it  is  rife.  This  has  been  the  aim  of  all  the 
philosophies  that  have  swayed  the  world.  Men  have  at- 
tempted, like  the  Stoics  of  old,  to  attain  this  power  by 
persuading  themselves  that  ills  were  not  ills,  but  only  dis- 
guised blessings;  a  principle  whose  truth  it  is  possible 
fully  to  make  our  own  only  by  connecting  with  it  the 
beliefs  which  Christianity  affords.  Another  method  of 
reaching  the  same  end  has  been  tried  in  the  distant  East 
by  Buddhism,  with  its  teaching  that  human  suffering  is 
but  the  punishment  for  sins  committed  in  a  previous  state 
of  existence,  and  that  the  goal  to  which  we  shall  finally 
arrive  is  an  unconsciousness  so  deep  that  all  our  earthly 
sufferings  will  be  forgotten  in  that  painless  slumber  to 
which  the  good  may  look  forward. 

Or,  still  again,  we  find  the  deep  tendency  to  fatalism 
which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  many  a  man's  belief,  erected 
into  a  system  like  that  of  a  great  German  writer  of 
recent  times,  calling  upon  the  power  of  resistance  which  is 

27 


28  THE  BURNING   BUSH. 

SO  valuable  a  part  of  our  nature,  and  exhorting  men  to 
bear  simply  because  all  these  purposeless  ills  of  life  are 
unavoidable,  and  that  it  is  base  to  sink  under  them  in 
weak  dejection  and  despair. 

Fortunately  for  the  ongoing  of  the  world,  we  do  not 
think  much  of  this  dark  question,  save  when  it  is  ^forced 
upon  us  by  the  evils  of  our  private  lot.  It  is  really  one 
of  the  most  wonderful  things  about  our  strange  human 
nature  that  we  should  be  able  so  largely  to  throw  off  the 
weight  which,  if  it  incessantly  bore  upon  us,  would  make 
existence  an  unendurable  burden.  Look  out  over  the 
world,  and  see  what  an  appalling  amount  of  misery,  degra- 
dation, pain  of  body  and  of  mind,  meets  your  gaze  on 
every  hand ;  and  you  are  almost  ready  to  despise  yourself 
for  being  able  to  draw  a  happy  breath.  In  certain  moods, 
to  one  at  least  who  has  had  his  power  of  sympathy  culti- 
vated by  exercise,  the  burden  does  seem  one  which  is 
capable  of  darkening  every  life.  And  although  the  wise 
providence  of  God  has  made  it  possible  to  throw  off  this 
weight  when  we  are  not  immediately  engaged  in  the  work 
of  relieving  misery,  every  life  has  in  it  calls  amply  suffi- 
cient to  make  us  feel  the  need  of  some  comprehensive 
view  of  the  matter  which  may  guide  us  aright  in  meeting, 
and  what  is  more,  in  preparing  for  the  calamities  which 
are  always  springing  up  unexpectedly,  and  from  the  most 
unlocked  for  quarters.  Each  one  of  those  ways  of  recon- 
ciling ourselves  with  the  ordinary  lot  of  man,  to  which  I 
have  referred,  was  not  the  idle  dream  of  an  abstruse 
thinker,  busying  himself  with  airy  problems  which  could 
never  have  any  bearing  upon  life,  but  the  attempt  to 
meet,  and  satisfactorily  to  deal  with  a  question  of  supreme 
practical  importance.     It  is  a  question  too,  which,  while 


THE   BURNING  BUSH.  29 

pressing  upon  humanity  in  all  ages  with  greater  or  less 
power,  becomes  more  and  more  in  need  of  an  answer  ac- 
cording as  increasing  intelligence  and  education  enlarge 
the  horizon  of  men's  lives.  All  through  the  literature  of 
the  past  we  find  the  sad  under-current  of  wonder  and 
perplexity  over  the  prevailing  misery  of  human  life. 
From  the  book  of  Job  to  the  serious  utterances  of  our  own 
day  it  stands  out  clearly  or  dimly,  as  the  subject  to  which 
more  thoughtful  minds  are  drawn  by  an  inexplicable  fasci- 
nation. And  the  necessity  of  settling  it  is  more  widely 
felt  as,  in  various  ways,  men  come  to  feel  nearer  than  they 
used,  to  distant  quarters  of  our  globe.  The  Indian  famine, 
whose  terrors  were  so  nobly  mitigated  by  the  exertions  of 
the  English  authorities,  came  before  us  with  appalling 
force,  and  entered,  as  two  centuries  ago  it  could  not  have 
entered,  into  the  great  total  of  facts  which  must  be  ex- 
plained. The  s]  ave-trade  in  Africa,  with  all  its  desolating 
horrors,  instead  of  looming  up  dimly  in  the  distance, 
almost,  of  another  world,  is  revealed  by  such  men  as 
Livingstone  and  Baker,  and  every  reflecting  mind,  as  well 
as  every  civilized  government,  is  called  upon  to  deal  with 
it  as  a  question  of  either  practical  or  speculative  moment. 
So  far  as  the  practical  treatment  of  such  matters  is  con- 
cerned, we  may  be  convinced  that  the  world  is  alive  to  its 
necessity  now,  perhaps,  more  fully  than  ever  before.  It 
has  come  to  be  admitted  on  all  sides  that  governments 
have  a  duty  in  dealing  with  such  questions,  and  one  whose 
limits  are  not  determined  by  the  amount  of  harm  that  is 
done  to  their  own  citizens.  In  the  private  treatment,  if  I 
may  so  express  myself,  of  misery  and  want,  there  probably 
was  never  so  much  intelligent  and  active  exertion  as  we 
see  around  us  every  day.     But  the  way  to  meet  trouble 


30 


THE   BURNING   BUSH. 


in  our  own  case  is  a  problem  ever  new,  and  ever  demand- 
ing a  solution.  To  me,  the  solution  which  is  afforded  by 
the  Christian  revelation  is  one  that  seems  to  meet  the  dif- 
ficulty, so  far  as  it  presents  itself  as  a  matter  of  specula- 
tion. The  cause  of  suffering — sin ;  the  purpose  of  suffering 
— purification;  the  distributer  of  suffering — an  all-wise 
Father;  the  reward,  or  rather  the  fruit, of  patient  suffering 
— an  eternity  of  spiritual  growth  and  progress;  these 
answers,  many  of  them  grasped  by  the  human  mind  long 
before  their  full  revelation  in  Christ  Jesus,  now  have  been 
stamped  as  true  by  the  seal  of  God  Himself;  and  we  have 
to  deal  with  only  the  details  of  the  question.  And  let  us 
not  fancy  that,  because  these  details  are  hard  to  under- 
stand, therefore  nothing  has  been  gained  by  having  these 
pi'evious  questions  and  principles  settled.  It  is  hard  for 
us  to  put  ourselves,  as  Christian  men,  into  the  state  of  mind 
to  which  it  is  an  open  question  whether  there  be  a  divine 
Father.  It  is  difficult  for  us  to  imagine  the  blackness  of 
mental  darkness  which  would  be  produced  by  absolute 
uncertainty  whether  there  be  a  conscious  life  hereafter. 
Compared  with  the  hopeless  character  that  would  be  im- 
parted to  the  question  by  total  ignorance  on  points  like 
these,  what  we  have  to  deal  with  is  of  very  minor  difficulty. 
And  indeed,  to  a  true  Christian  soul,  the  only  real  difficulty 
is  that  of  demeaning  himself  under  his  own  trials  as  his 
behefs  demand  that  he  should.  What  I  mean,  of  course, 
is  not  that  sympathy  and  pain  are  not  the  feelings  with 
which  he  views  the  misery  of  others,  nor  that  the  influence 
of  the  religion  of  love  is  not  directly  to  deepen  his  sym- 
pathy with  sorrow,  and  increase  his  desire  to  lessen  it. 
All  that  I  mean  is  that  the  speculative  difficulty — the 
blank  perplexity   with  which  human  suffering  would  be 


THE   BURNING  BUSH.  31 

viewed  by  one  who  did  not  believe  in  an  all-wise  and 
fatherly  Providence  of  God, — has  no  place  in  the  mind  of 
one  who  does  so  believe.  Such  a  belief,  like  the  major 
premise  of  a  syllogism,  necessarily  involves  the  conclusion 
that  human  suffering  has  a  purpose,  and  one  that  not  only 
justifies  its  existence,  but  would  actually  convince  us,  were 
our  vision  strong  enough  to  perceive  it,  that  God's  father- 
liness  is  shown  in  that  very  arrangement  of  affairs  which 
now  appears  to  cast  doubt  upon  it.  This,  I  suppose,  is 
what  every  thinking  Christian  falls  back  upon.  And  the 
apparent  superiority  in  reasonableness  of  those  who  object 
to  such  a  way  of  solving  the  difficulty  lies,  after  all,  only 
in  this,  that  they  decline  to  fall  back  on  any  thing,  or  in 
other  words,  have  no  explanation  at  all  that  can  satisfy 
the  moral  sense. 

But  still,  there  remains  the  difficulty  of  settling  it  for  one's 
self,  which  is  a  task  for  the  character  rather  than  for  the 
mind.  I  may  have  no  trouble  in  mentally  referring  my 
own  suffering,  or  the  suffering  of  others,  to  God's  wise 
and  loving  discipline.  But  it  is  a  question  in  which  are 
summed  up  most  of  the  perplexities  of  living  a  Christian  life, 
how  to  learn  this  lesson  so  thoroughly  that  we  may  act 
upon  it,  and  make  it  the  habitual  temper  of  our  mind  and 
soul  io  feel  that  God  doeth  all  things  well. 

In  saying  that  in  this  problem  most  of  our  other  reli- 
gious difficulties  are  summed  up,  I  necessarily  decline  any 
attempt  to  deal  all  at  once,  with  them  and  with  their 
remedies.  T  propose  to  speak  to-day  of  only  one  of  these :  it 
is  the  one  that  appears  to  be  suggested  by  the  story  which 
was  read  as  the  first  lesson  for  the  morning.  After  the 
failure  of  his  first  attempt  to  free  his  brethren  from  the 
yoke  of  Egyptian  slavery,  Moses  retired,  in  bitter  disap- 


32  THE   BUENING   BUSH. 

pointment  we  may  be  sure,  to  the  lonely  desert  lying 
around  Mt.  Sinai,  seeking  in  a  herdsman's  duties  at  once 
the  relief  of  action,  and  leisure  to  meditate  upon  his  failure 
and  its  cause.  Whatever  balm  to  his  wounded  spirit  may 
have  been  possible  from  tender  earthly  ties,  he  seems  to 
have  found  in  his  family  life,  which  now  began ;  and  if  we 
may  infer  from  her  name  anything  as  to  his  wife's  charac- 
ter, and  capacity  to  lighten  the  burden  of  disappointment, 
we  may  imagine  that  he  found  in  her,  in  far  greater 
degree,  the  strange  relief  from  care,  the  deep  remedy 
for  bitterness  which  other  great  minds  have  found  in  the 
touching  innocence  and  affection  of  a  pet  bird;  for  such  is 
the  beautiful  significance  of  the  name  by  which  she  is 
known  to  us.  But  the  history  does  not  allow  us  to  sup- 
pose that  he  was  diverted  from  his  grand  purpose  by  this, 
or  by  any  other  alleviation  which  he  may  have  found  upon 
his  path ;  although  the  influence  is  incalculable  that  may 
have  come  to  him,  as  to  so  many  others  of  the  world's 
greatest  characters,  from  the  softening  and  ennobling  of  the 
nature  which  God  seems  to  have  connected,  for  so  large  a 
portion  of  our  race,  with  the  family  relation.  Softened  and 
ennobled  he  certainly  was,  by  this  or  some  other  influence; 
for  when  he  is  again  brought  before  us,  he  is  fitted  for  the 
work  which  he  had  previously  failed  to  achieve.  The  story 
of  the  burning  bush  is  too  well  known  to  need  that  I 
should  repeat  it,  even  had  it  not  just  been  read.  The  use 
to  which  I  mean  to  put  it,  is  not  that  for  which  it  was 
first  meant,  but  one  for  which  it  has  always  seemed  to 
me  particularly  fitted.  The  truth  to  which  it  was  meant 
to  draw  Moses'  attention  was  that  of  Jehovah's  endless 
and  unchanging  being,  and  the  lesson  to  be  derived  by 
him  was  faith  in  the  promises  long  before  made  to  Abra- 


THE   BURNING   BUSH.  33 

ham, that  his  descendants  should  come  up  out  of  Egypt 
into  the  land  in  which  he  was  then  a  sojourner.  The  pur- 
pose to  which  I  would  reverently  apply  it  is  to  illustrate 
the  moral  uses  of  the  Christian  endurance  of  trial. 

For,  as  I  have  said  before,  our  difficulty  as  Christians, 
is  not  the  framing  of  a  theory  by  which  we  may  still  the 
mental  unrest  aroused  by  the  spectacle  of  human  suffering, 
our  own  or  that  of  others,  and  reconcile  its  existence  with 
the  fatherliness  of  God.  The  mind  is  too  well  convinced, 
by  looking  back  upon  its  own  history  and  watching  the 
beneficial  result  of  trial  patiently  endured,  that  the  purpose 
of  suffering,  and  its  natural  effect  are  good,  and  worthy 
of  such  a  God  as  ours.  What  we  want  is  the  moral 
power  to  take  patiently  now,  once  more,  the  chastisement 
that  comes  to  us.  We  want  the  ability,  now  that  sickness, 
or  bereavement,  or  poverty,  or  neglect  is  buffeting  us,  to 
turn  the  cheek  to  the  smiter  in  resignation — nay,  in  thank- 
fulness. We  want  in  short,  to  translate  our  creed  into  the 
language  of  action  and  endurance. 

More  than  this,  too,  we  want,  if  our  horizon  be  not  ter- 
ribly narrowed  by  selfishness.  We  desire  that  not  in  our 
words  alone,  not  alone  in  our  demeanor  when  prosperous 
and  healthy  and  honored,  but  likewise  in  that  speech 
which  is  the  most  eloquent,  as  well  as  the  hardest  to  learn, 
in  the  endurance  of  adversity,  to  utter  our  testimony  to 
the  power  of  Christ  in  changing  the  soul  from  what  it  is 
by  nature  into  the  fulness  of  His  hoHness.  This  must  form 
a  part  of  every  Christian's  ideal.  If  one  member  of  the 
Lord's  body,  the  Church,  suffer,  without  being  benefited,  by 
the  discipline  to  which  it  is  subjected,  all  the  members 
suffer,  if  not  by  positively  being  harmed,  yet  at  least,  by 
being    deprived   of   that   most   salutary   of   lessons,   the 

2* 


34  THE   BURNING   BUSH. 

spectacle  of  faithful  endurance.  Our  responsibilities  under 
this  head,  toward  each  other,  are  second  only  to  those  we 
have  toward  God  Himself.  For  how  shall  men  hear  unless 
they  are  addressed  ?  And  what  form  of  communicating 
truths  like  these  can  for  a  moment  be  compared  in 
effectiveness  with  the  mute  eloquence  of  a  soul  crushed  by 
trial  yet  crying :  ''  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in 
him  ?  " 

The  influence  on  Moses  of  the  sight  that  he  witnessed 
is  only  an  example  of  the  truth  that  what  is  addressed  to 
the  eye  in  outward  deed  far  surpasses  in  its  influence  that 
which  is  addressed  only  to  the  mind.  One  would  have 
thought  that  the  long  story  of  God's  dealings  with  His 
chosen  would  already  have  branded  upon  Moses'  mind  the 
lesson  of  His  unchanging  faithfulness.  To  what,  if  not  to 
this,  was  testimony  borne  by  His  choosing  Abraham,  and 
His  slow  working  out  in  his  descendants,  thus  far,  of  the 
purposes  announced  to  the  Father  of  the  faithful  ?  The 
very  captivity  in  Egypt  was  not  left  out  in  the  clear  un- 
veiling of  Israel's  destiny  that  was  made  to  Abraham, 
under  the  starry  Chaldean  skies,  when  the  horror  of  great 
darkness  fell  upon  him,  and  he  was  assured  that  God 
would  be  his  shield  and  his  exceeding  great  reward.  Yet, 
for  all  this,  it  was  needful  to  impress  upon  Moses,  as 
though  he  had  never  learned  it  before,  the  lesson  that 
amidst  appearances  the  most  contradictory,  God's  slow- 
rolling  purposes  were  accomplishing  themselves.  The 
sight  of  the  bush,  burning  with  fire,  yet  unconsumed, 
must  bring  back  the  faith  which  the  history  of  long  gen- 
erations had  failed  to  make  strong  enough  for  the  test 
which  it  must  bear. 

Who  of  us  can  say  that  his  faith  would  be  competent  to 


THE  BURNING   BUSH.  35 

grapple  with  trial  were  lie  alone,  of  all  men,  singled  out  to 
bear  it  ?  Would  the  glorious  history  of  the  Church's  past 
suffice  to  nerve  us  for  the  conflict?  Would  even  the 
spectacle  of  the  God-man,  spurning  the  aid  of  eager  legions 
of  angels,  and  coping  with  temptation  in  that  strength 
which  you  and  I  may  have  for  the  asking — would  even 
this  ensure  our  victory  ?  I  trow  not.  Therefore  it  is 
that  by  such  spectacles  as  we  may  behold  every  day  of 
our  lives,  the  rust  is  cleared  away  which  perpetually 
threatens  to  fill  up  in  every  heart  the  divine  inscription 
that  tells  us  that  "  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth, 
and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  He  receiveth."  Who  can 
reckon  the  worth  of  these  silent  utterances  of  the  voice 
of  God  ?  I  think  upon  my  life,  with  its  monotony,  its 
lack  of  great  outlooks,  its  petty  cares,  its  stunting  and 
distracting  worriments,  perhaps  its  sickness,  or  its  poverty, 
or  its  contempt,  and  I  think,  it  may  be,  that  I  have  ground 
for  an  impugning  of  the  justice  and  the  love  of  God.  How 
can  I, — such  is  the  instinctive  utterance  of  the  unsubmis- 
sive heart, — how  can  I  look  for  any  ripening  in  religious 
life,  for  any  fresh  understanding  of  the  ways  of  God,  for 
any  realization  in  my  own  case,  of  the  calm  serenity  which 
breathes  through  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  when  mean  and 
paltry  irritations  are  perpetually  diverting  my  attention, 
when  grandeur  or  sublimity  of  purpose  is  constantly  in- 
terrupted by  having  to  apply  myself  to  providing  bread 
for  those  dependent  upon  me, — when,  in  a  word,  I  live  a 
life  which  is  lit  up  by  no  rays  of  greatness,  but  is  of  ne- 
cessity spent  in  commonplace  duties  which  no  enthusiasm 
can  possibly  turn  into  anything  but  narrowing  influences  ? 
This  feeling  of  hopelessness  of  doing  aught  of  much  con- 
sequence is  a  very  common  one ;  and  it  particularly  arises 


36  THE    BURNING   BUSH. 

in  those  cases  where  there  really  is  the  capacity  of  doing 
what  is  of  great  consequence.  But  it  is  not  done,  because 
men  do  not  rise  high  enough  to  take  in  the  importance  of 
every  man's  duties,  whatever  they  may  be,  provided  they 
are  his  own,  which  Christ  revealed  to  all  who  have  ears  to 
hear  or  eyes  to  see,  when  He  made  immortal  the  poor  widow 
casting  in  all  her  living  into  the  treasury,  or  the  weeping 
harlot  who  bathed  His  feet  with  her  tears  and  wiped  them 
with  the  hairs  of  her  head.  And  because  men  persist  in 
applying  an  earthly  and  false  standard  to  measure  the 
moral  importance  of  acts  and  duties.  He  shames  us  with 
spectacles  that  reveal  to  us  the  emptiness  of  our  lamenta- 
tions in  as  speaking  a  fashion  as  that  wherein  the  burning 
bush  disclosed  to  Moses  the  truth  he  had  forgotten.  Turn 
your  eyes  away  for  a  moment  from  your  private  griefs, 
and  look  about  you.  There  is  a  woman  sick  unto  death, 
suffering  agony  by  day  and  by  night,  without  support,  and 
trusting  to  the  Providence  of  God  for  the  bare  necessaries 
of  life,  so  far  as  her  own  feeble  but  courageous  exertions 
are  unable  to  procure  them,  alone  in  the  w^orld,  yet  with  a 
meekness  and  saintliness  of  spirit  which  rise  superior  to 
the  most  commonplace  and,  as  you  would  think,  degrading 
environment,  bearing  agony  of  body  and  utter  destitution 
of  all  that  makes  life  attractive.  What  do  you  think  of 
it,  and  its  meaning  for  you  ?  You  think  you  are  shut  out 
from  doing  anything  great  or  imposing.  Is  her  life  great 
and  imposing  in  the  highest  sense?  And  if  so,  how? 
How,  but  by  its  being  an  utterly  unpretending  and  almost 
unconscious  exhibition  in  everyday  life,  of  the  triumph  of 
the  soul  over  difficulties  which  none  but  a  heroic  soul  could 
overcome  ?  You  think  your  obstacles  really  hinder  you  from 
being  contented ;  they  are  nothing  compared  with   hers. 


THE   BURNING   BUSH.  37 

There  is  nothing  in  your  life  to  inspire  you  with  enthusi- 
asm. Is  there  anything  in  hers  ?  You  find  it  hard  to 
submit,  and  harder  still  to  look  forward  with  submission. 
She  has  absolutely  no  outlook  present  or  future,  from  her 
disease,  or  from  her  destitution.  Yet  she  is  bright,  almost 
happy,  in  the  intervals  of  her  acuter  spasms  of  agony. 

Is  this  a  lesson  to  shame  you  out  of  your  unworthy 
estimates,  and  nerve  you  to  set  about  something  better 
than  unmanly  puling  ?  Then  thank  God  for  it.  "  Put  off 
thy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet  for  the  place  whereon  thou 
standest "  is  ground  made  holy  by  the  presence  of  God  Him- 
self. Go  down  in  dust  and  ashes.  Abase  thyself  before 
Him  for  having  dared  to  doubt  that  He  has  given  thee  a 
chance  of  glorifying  Him.  Pray  Him  that  the  thought 
of  thine  heart  may  be  forgiven  thee ;  and  learn  that  there 
are  lives  compared  with  whose  trials  thine  are  as  nothing, 
yet  that  even  there  the  might  of  Christ's  influence  suffices 
to  make  of  them  fields  of  loftiest  spiritual  victory. 

Add  to  this  the  harm  to  others  which  results  from  seeing 
a  man  weakly  lamenting  over  the  burden  appointed  for 
him,  instead  of  quietly  taking  it  up  and  carrying  it  in  re- 
liance upon  Him  who  ordained  it — add  the  loss  to  others 
of  the  example  which,  when  we  fairly  look  at  it,  is  felt  to 
be  so  humbling  and  at  the  same  time  so  elevating,  and  it 
can  hardly  escape  any  one,  that  among  the  most  powerful 
of  the  means  which  God  has  prepared  for  our  awakening  is 
this  of  stationing  all  over  our  weary  world  these  bushes, 
burning  but  not  consumed  by  the  fires  of  divine  discipline. 
It  can  scarcely  be  too  hard  a  lesson  for  any  one  to  learn 
that  in  every  life  there  are  opportunities  in  profusion  for 
magnifying  the  Lord  who  has  bought  us  with  His  own 
precious  blood. 


38  THE    BURNING    BUSH. 

Do  I  need  to  draw  for  the  arousing  and  encouraging  of 
fainting  hearts,  upon  the  store  of  strength  which  may  be 
found  in  the  truth  of  our  immortal  being  hereafter?  "We 
all  know  how  the  turmoil  of  our  earthly  life  tends  to  drown 
the  voice  that  speaks  to  us  of  the  recompense  of  reward 
awaiting  those  who  by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing 
seek  for  glory  and  honor  and  immortality.  The  collect  for 
the  day  brings  beautifully  before  us  that  vision  of  true 
beauty  which  should  correct  our  tendency  to  measure  the 
meaning  of  our  lives  by  standards  which  have  no  value 
beyond  the  present.  Let  me  repeat  its  hallowed  words, 
that  in  our  endeavor  to  make  our  own  lives  at  once  worthy 
of  God  and  inspiriting  to  our  fellows,  we  may  not  fail  to 
remember  that  they  are  truly  great,  not  according  to  their 
apparent  importance  now,  but  according  to  the  extent  to 
which  they  manifest  the  qualities  that  are  to  make  up  our 
being  hereafter. 

"  0  God,  who  hast  prepared  for  those  who  love  Thee  such 
good  things  as  pass  man's  understanding ;  pour  into  our 
hearts  such  love  toward  Thee,  that  we,  loving  Thee  above 
all  things,  may  obtain  Thy  promises,  which  exceed  all  that 
we  can  desire;  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 


IV. 


MOSES  AND   HIS  MISSION. 

DEVOTION   TO   DUTY   THAT   DOES   NOT   LOOK   TO   THE   EEWAED. 

"  And  he  said,  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee,  and  this  shall  be  a  token 
unto  thee  that  I  have  sent  thee  :  When  thou  hast  brought  forth  the 
people  out  of  Egypt,  ye  shall  serve  God  upon  this  mountain.'' — Exodus 
iii.  12. 

Not  inappropriately  is  the  spiritual  life  called  a  life  of 
faith.  In  the  sign  given  to  Moses  we  have  a  striking  in- 
stance of  the  way  in  which  a  man  is  often  called  upon  to 
do  and  to  suffer  in  trust,  uncomforted  through  his  first 
stage  of  action  and  endurance  by  outward  and  visible 
marks  of  the  Divine  Presence,  but  resting  all  his  hopes  on 
something  to  come,  his  assurance  of  which  is  itself  based 
upon  inner  communings  with  God  and  proof  not  plain  to 
others. 

We  all  know  something  of  this.  All  who  have  wrought 
in  the  divine  vineyard  have  had  to  draw  support  and 
cheer  under  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  from  the 
thought  of  the  reward  to  be  given  when  its  task  was  done. 
And  yet,  in  spite  of  experience — in  spite  of  the  oft-repeat- 
ed lesson  that  thus  faith  is  most  largely  developed — it  is 
perhaps  one  of  the  commonest  sources  of  discouragement 
that  again  and  again  this  treatment  is  adopted,  and  we 
are  reminded  that  the  harvest  must  be  sown  in  tears, 
before  it  can  be  reaped  in  joy.  From  this  portion  of  the 
eventful   life  of  Moses  I   would  fain  draw  this  morning 

39 


40  MOSES   AND   HIS   MISSION. 

something  to  abate  the  evil,  and  point  out  the  good  which 
flows  from  the  discipline  in  question. 

Observe  then,  the  exact  nature  of  Moses*  treatment.  A 
mighty  task,  one  which  he  had  before  bootlessly  under- 
taken, was  imposed  upon  him  anew.  His  previous  attempt 
had  failed  because  it  was  made  of  his  own  motion. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  the  narrative,  whether  as  given 
in  the  .preceding  chapter  or  in  the  address  of  St.  Stephen 
in  the  Book  of  the  Acts,  we  find  no  trace  of  God's  having 
at  that  time  charged  Moses  distinctly  with  it.  He  sup- 
posed indeed,  that  his  brethren  would  have  understood 
that  God  by  his  hand  would  deliver  them,  and  there  may 
have  been,  even  so  early,  some  divine  intimation  that  such 
was  in  the  end  to  be  his  destiny.  But  there  is  nothing 
to  show  that,  either  for  his  own  good,  or  for  any  other 
reason,  the  attempt  then  made  was  by  the  bidding  of  God ; 
whether  or  not,  he  was  now  distinctly  charged  to  renew 
it.  The  gloominess  of  the  prospect  was  not  disguised. 
Pharaoh's  refusal  was  certain,  though  success  was  guaran- 
tied as  well.  But  the  task  was  one  before  which,  apart 
from  the  previous  failure,  one  bolder  than  Moses  might 
well  have  shrunk  back.  To  deliver,  by  peaceable  means, 
a  subject  population  of  millions  from  the  tight  grip  of  an 
absolute  and  powerful  tyrant,  with  nothing  to  rely  upon 
but  promised  wonders,  was  indeed  a  behest  calculated  to 
try  his  faith.  Surely,  it  seemed,  there  might  be  some- 
thing given  now  upon  which  to  found  a  rational  hope — 
something  unmistakable  in  its  character,  to  which  in  after 
years  of  struggle  he  might  look  back  in  confident  assur- 
ance that  he  was  not  the  dupe  of  an  ocular  illusion. 
Learned  as  he  was  in  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians, 
familiar  doubtless,  from  his  own  experience,  with  the  ease 


MOSES  AND   HIS   MISSION.  41 

with  which  signs  like  those  which  were  given  him  during 
this  interview  might  be  the  creation  of  fancy ;  to  such  a 
man  the  rod  turned  into  a  serpent,  and  the  leprous  hand, 
strange  as  for  the  moment  they  appeared,  were  hardly  the 
things  to  revive  faith  when  mocked  by  doubt,  or  to  stand 
out  in  time  to  come  as  unmistakable  signs  that  this 
wondrous  scene  had  really  taken  place.  And,  such  as 
they  were,  the  same  prominence  is  not  given  to  them  as  to 
the  other  sign  whose  promise  is  our  text ;  and  they  were 
expressly  intended  to  persuade  others,  not  him.  Some- 
thing hereafter  to  come  is  the  main  thing  for  him  to  go 
upon;  and  that  something  is  the  promise  that  the  now 
enslaved  Israelites  should  worship  on  the  mountain  where 
he  stood. 

So  God  is  wont  to  deal  with  His  children  in  every  age. 
So  He  dealt  with  Abraham  in  Charran — so  He  dealt  with 
Jacob,  and  so,  to-day  with  you  and  me.  When  we  hear 
His  voice  bidding  us  follow  Him,  we  cannot  know  what  is 
coming  to  us.  That  our  defeats  hitherto  have  been  owing 
to  undue  trust  in  our  own  fancied  strength  we  guess 
indeed ;  but  it  is  a  leap  in  the  dark  to  pledge  ourselves  to 
renounce  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil.  They  have 
worsted  us  many  times  ;  and  our  sages t  counsellors  warn 
,  us  against  being  over  confident  that  they  will  not  get  the 
better  of  us  again.  The  feelings  that  we  have  to-day  are 
more  like  the  signs  granted  to  Moses  for  the  present  weak- 
ness of  his  faith,  than  any  thing  which  may  hereafter 
stand  out  in  the  retrospect  clear  beyond  cavil.  The  sign 
on  which  God  lays,  and  would  have  us  lay  the  greatest 
stress,  is  His  promise  of  some  better  thing  to  come — His 
pledge  that  the  mission  He  lays  upon  us  is  destined  to  be 
brought  to  a  triumphant  ending. 


42  MOSES  AND   HIS   MISSION. 

Now  there  is  about  all  this  something  very  different 
from  the  way  in  which  we  should  expect  to  be  treated.  It 
would  seem  natural  and  best  if  we  had  granted  to  us,  at 
once,  a  grace  unmistakably  divine  as  were  the  miraculous 
gifts  vouchsafed  for  a  while  to  the  believers  of  the  early 
Church — the  power,  that  is,  to  pray  without  ever  being 
haunted  by  wandering  thoughts,  the  gift  of  banishing  and 
permanently  keeping  out  of  the  mind  the  old  associations 
with  sin  and  vanity.  Then,  whenever  difficulty  appeared, 
when  doubts  arose,  as  rise  they  will,  about  our  having 
really  met  with  God,  and  talked  to  Him  face  to  face,  we 
should  only  have  to  fall  back  upon  this  palpable  change  in 
us,  and  there  could  be  no  further  question  that  we  had 
not  obeyed  a  voice  which  our  own  ears  had  feigned.  This, 
I  say,  or  something  like  this  is  what  we  might  look  for. 
And  instead,  we  get  the  promise  of  a  triumph  at  last  of 
which  to-day's  failures  do  not  speak  in  any  very  raptur- 
ous tones  of  confidence. 

Let  us  try  to  see  why  this  is.  With  Moses,  the  grant- 
ing of  even  these  subordinate  signs,  the  changing  rod,  the 
leprous  hand,  was  only  after  he  had,  as  we  may  suppose, 
accepted  his  mission.  True,  his  doubts  are  not  yet  entirely 
cleared  away,  but  they  concern  themselves  now  with  the 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  executing  the  behest  which  he  feels 
to  be  his  own  work — the  people's  unbelief — his  own  lack 
of  eloquence.  And  even  after  these  have  been  done  away, 
his  great  heart  quails  yet  once  more,  and  he  angers  the 
Lord  by  shrinking  from  his  post  of  duty.  But  after  all, 
the  victory  is  won,  and  won  too,  in  the  main,  I  think  the 
narrative  gives  us  reason  to  believe,  before  the  miracles 
were  wrought, — won  on  the  strength  of  the  promise  of  the 
text. 


MOSES   AND   HIS   MISSION.  43 

Now  let  us  see  whether,  after  all,  it  was  for  his  own 
good  wholly — whether,  in  fact,  it  did  not  turn  out  rather 
to  his  hurt,  that  he  was  entrusted  with  these  miraculous 
powers.  As  means  to  do  that  which  they  were  meant  to 
do,  to  persuade  the  people,  to  confound  the  magicians,  to 
leave  Pharaoh  without  excuse,  to  bring  down  upon  the 
doomed  land  the  threatened  plagues — for  ends,  in  short, 
which  concerned  others,  they  were  important,  perhaps 
necessary,  for  his  stupendous  and  peculiar  task.  But  in 
those  respects  where  our  task  is  like  his — in  regard  to  his 
spiritual  growth — it  was  far  otherwise.  What  was  the 
great  error  of  his  life,  that  for  which  he  was  destined  not 
to  witness  the  complete  triumph  of  his  work  ?  Was  it  not 
in  consequence  of  his  having  been  entrusted  with  the  won- 
der-working rod,  and  having  come  to  look  upon  himself  as 
entitled  to  use  it  for  his  own  ends,' and  not  at  the  bidding 
of  God  ?  He  seems  to  have  slowly  assumed  to  himself  a 
part  of  the  miraculous  power  of  which  it  was  but  the  em- 
blem, instead  of  remembering  his  own  utter  insignificance 
when  thought  of  as  more  than  the  obedient  wielder,  under 
special  commandment  always,  of  the  strange  might  of  God. 
Otherwise,  it  is  inconceivable  that  his  fatal  error  could  have 
been  committed ;  and  it  seems  likely  that  the  disregarded 
bidding  to  call  forth  water  from  the  rock  by  speech,  not  as 
before  by  striking  it  with  the  rod,  and  that  with  Aaron  to 
share  in  the  miracle  (Num.  xx.  8 — 12),  was  dictated  by 
the  knowledge  that  such  was  the  tendency  of  the  leader's 
thoughts. 

And  if  all  this  be  so,  it  is  a  stern  rebuke  to  us  for  trying 
to  be  wiser  than  God  in  the  ordering  of  our  souls.  It 
sheds  light  on  the  dangers  to  which  we  should  inevitably 
be  exposed   by  .being  entrusted  with  privileges  such  as  I 


44  MOSES   AND   HIS   MISSION. 

have  suggested,  and  such  as  we  think  would  so  greatly  help 
US  in  fighting  the  fight  of  faith.  It  is  as  great  a  mistake 
as  to  suppose  that  large  doses  of  alcohol  really,  and  per- 
manently, give  greater  powers  of  endurance.  On  the  con- 
trary, as  the  reaction  in  the  physical  system  is  greater  than 
the  temporary  energy  aroused,  so  too,  we  may  be  sure  that 
the  apparent  increase  of  faith  from  having  such  powers, 
would  be  followed  by  a  decrease  of  the  faculty  whose  very 
definition  is  that  it  is  the  substance  of  things  not  possessed, 
but  hoped  for, — the  evidence  of  things  not  seen.  Suppose 
that  whenever  you  were  upon  your  knees  you  could  con- 
centrate your  thoughts  wholly  upon  intercourse  with  God, 
and  that  with  absolutely  no  effort.  Leave  out  of  sight  the 
certainty  that  such  a  power  would  pre-suppose  the  attain- 
ment already  of  a  state  of  perfection,  and  that  even  other- 
wise, devotion  so  rapturous  would  absorb  all  your  time  and 
thoughts,  leaving  none  for  action  or  for  self-conquest  in 
other  ways  ;  is  it  not  plain  that  while  the  feeling  of  God's 
presence  would,  by  the  very  supposition,  be  utterly  un- 
clouded, still  Faith,  in  the  sense  of  trusting  God — of,  so  to 
speak,  willingness  to  risk  any  thing  for  Him — would  be 
wholly  destroyed  ?  And  Faith  is  the  most  important  part 
of  the  Christian  character.  If  one  may  venture  to  say  so, 
the  attainment  of  this  is  the  very  end  and  aim  of  our  exist- 
ence. While  in  itself  not  strictly  a  merit  in  God's  sight, 
this  ability  to  trust  Him,  so  slowly  won,  and  so  hard  to 
win,  must  be  that  on  which  His  eye  rests  with  more  favor 
than  on  any  other  grace,  during  our  probation  here. 
Charity,  Love,  is  indeed  said  to  be  a  greater.  But  that  is 
only  when  we  take  into  account  the  entire  existence  of  the 
soul.  A  stage  of  being  shall  come  when  faith  shall  lose  its 
office  in  the  present  vision  of  glory.     But  here,   fighting 


MOSES  AND  HIS   MISSION.  45 

with  difficulties,  struggling  with  doubt,  not  in  the  calm, 
serene  composure  with  which  old  painters  have  limned  for 
us  the  features  of  St.  George  in  his  encounter  with  the  dra- 
gon, but  pinning  his  very  life  on  successful  resistance  to 
doubt's  dreadful,  grisly  onset — so  fighting,  and  so  wiping 
the  dust  of  battle  from  his  at  last  triumphant  brow,  I  think 
of  no  spectacle  grander  to  human  eyes  or  more  satisfying 
to  those  of  God  than  that  of  a  man  of  faith. 

And  this,  I  say,  is  what  the  constant,  unearned  posses- 
sion of  such  gifts  would  but  impair  and  finally  destroy. 

And  again,  with  us,  as  with  Moses  in  his  unconscious 
appropriation  of  the  miraculous  powers  to  himself, — his 
use  of  them  to  accomplish  his  own  will, — would  the  ten- 
dency be  strong  and  disastrous.  Why,  as  it  is,  we  have  to 
be  always  watching  against  this  danger.  Who  does  not 
know  how  the  exercise  of  his  special  gifts  breeds,  or  tends 
to  breed,  a  vile  self-sufficiency  which  many  a  mortification 
is  required  to  crush.  Executive  ability,  when  applied  to 
religious  enterprises,  the  power  of  persuasion,  or  eloquence, 
all  of  these  gifts,  when  they  are  exceptionally  great,  de- 
mand this  caution,  and  in  the  absence  of  it,  breed  a  conceit 
which  often  positively  neutralizes,  if  it  does  not  largely 
overbalance,  all  the  good  which  the  gift  would  help  a  man 
or  woman  to  accomplish.  Even  in  the  private  life  of  the 
soul,  so  to  speak,  an  unusual  ease  and  comfort  in  prayer 
may  beget  at  last,  not  thankfulness,  but  pride.  Christian 
generosity  may  be  the  mother  of  vanity.  And  let  any  one 
of  these,  from  being  the  fruit  of  toil,  become  'permanent, 
and  require  no  effi)rt,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  to  you 
likewise  there  will  present  itself  some  rock  of  duty  or  of 
perplexity  from  which  you  will  be  sorely  moved  to  try  to 
draw  the  water  of  comfort  for  yourself  and  others,  not  in 


46  MOSES   AND   HIS   MISSION. 

the  gentle,  quiet  way  enjoined  by  God,  but  by  the  rude, 
self-willed  means  that  pride  suggests.  Over  the  mind 
would  slowly  creep  the  notion  that  what  you  always  found 
yourself  able  to  do,  you  had  in  yourself  the  power  to  do ; 
and  the  self-assertion  would  bring  down  upon  you,  not  in- 
deed, if  truly  bewailed,  a  total  exclusion  from  the  Promised 
Land,  but  much  weary  waiting  among  the  bleak  mountain- 
tops,  gazing  wistfully  towards  the  far-off  abodes  of  rest. 

I  think  then,  we  may  be  assured  that  it  was  for  Moses' 
highest  behoof  that  he  was  left  to  give  in  his  allegiance  on 
the  strength  of  a  promise  which,  in  itself,  made  a  severe 
demand  on  his  powers  of  faith ;  and  that  the  great  error 
of  his  life  lay  in  the  wilful  misuse  of  the  gifts  which  were 
bestowed,  not  for  his  own  benefit,  but  for  that  of  others. 
And  if  any  good  is  to  come  to  us  from  reflecting  on  this 
momentous  event  in  the  life  of  one  of  the  world's  greatest 
characters,  it  must  lie,  mainly,  in  making  us  more  con- 
tented in  our  acquiescence  in  the  way  which  the  Lord  has 
appointed  for  our  growth  in  grace — the  winning,  by  slow 
and  toilsome  effort,  the  power  to  feel  deeply,  to  pi^ay  de- 
votedly and  to  act  successfully. 

But  rebuke  to  foolish  and  inordinate  cravings,  here,  as 
always,  is  not  the  only  outcome  of  God's  dealings  with  His 
chosen.  Cheer,  as  well  as  reproof,  flows  from  them. 
Rather,  as  the  bitter  waters  of  Marah  were  made  sweet 
by  casting  into  them  the  branch  that  the  Lord  showed  to 
Moses,  so  is  the  apparent  neglect  of  His  children  sweetened 
by  what  God  has  appointed  for  those  who,  like  Moses, 
accept  the  task  assigned  them  to  do. 

There  was  no  promise  of  outward  manifestation  for  him- 
self even  in  the  words  of  our  text.  All  that  was  assured 
was  that  God  would  be  with  him.     This  might  be  only  in 


MOSES  AND   HIS   MISSION.  47 

the  general  way  of  favoring  his  measures,  supporting  them, 
and  granting  them  final  success.   Jehovah's  purpose  seemed 
to  be,  so  far  as  any  recorded  words  go,  to  leave  him  entirely 
to  himself.     Eor  the  removal  of  the  people's  unbelief  he 
might  repeat  the  miracle  of  the  rod.     He  might  do  many 
wonders  by  means  of  it.     But  for  anything  beyond  this 
sort  of  appearance,  or  companionship,  he  had  no  assurance. 
On  that  understanding  he  undertook  the  task.      Surrend- 
ering all  claim  upon  the  perpetual  visible  presence  and 
guidance  of  the  Almighty — relying  only  on  the  promise 
that  in  a  general  way  he  might  count  upon  Divine  assist- 
ance, his  sorely-burdened  spirit  took  up  the  load,  which 
doubts  as  to  his  own  abilities,  only,  had  ever  tempted  him 
to  decline.     But  what  was  indeed  the  result  ?     Did  God 
leave  him  alone  to  decide  upon  any  measure,  or  to  execute 
those  needed  to  bring  to  good  effect  the  mission  on  which 
he  was  despatched  ?    Far  otherwise.    On  none  of  the  Old 
Testament  worthies  has  the  continual  dew  of  God's  bless- 
ing been  so  bestowed  as  upon  him  who,  under  the  influence 
of  these  dark  forebodings,  so  sturdily  assumed  the  allotted 
burden.   Eevealing  Himself  in  every  emergency — talking 
with  him  face  to  face,  as  a  man  talketh  with  his  friend,  ad- 
mitting him  on  the  holy  mount  to  a  nearer  view  of  Himself 
than  has  ever  been  vouchsafed  to  mortal  man, — thus  did 
God   show   Himself  better  than   His  word,  to  one  who 
could  undertake  to   do   His   bidding   on   no  more  solid 
guarantee  than  was  to  be  found  in  the  bare  promise  that 
in  time  to  come  he  should  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul  and 
be  satisfied.     And  such  revelation,  was  it   an  arbitrary 
reward  that  might  have  been  withheld  or  not  ?   Did  it  not 
rather  link  itself  with  the  special  faith  thus  developed  ?    I 
am  sure  it  must  have  been  the  latter  and  not  the  former. 


48  MOSES   AND   HIS   MISSION. 

From  among  all  the  heroes  of  the  faith  commemorated  in 
the  famous  11th  chapter  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews, 
Moses  is  singled  out  as  being  pre-eminently  the  one  who  by 
faith  endured  as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible.  That  is  the 
special  property,  or  prerogative,  or  office  of  faith — to  have 
vision  of  things  not  seen  as  yet  by  man.  And  accordingly, 
it  was  the  undertaking  of  this  mission  which  so  strength- 
ened the  faith  which  it  tested,  that  of  all  the  sons  of  man 
none  has  been  so  close  to  God,  as  none  has  undertaken  a 
work  of  such  critical  and  tremendous  responsibility  so 
purely  in  a  spirit  of  faith. 

What  need  we  then  any  further  witnesses  to  the  deep 
knowledge  of  human  wants  displayed  in  the  treatment  of 
which  we  are  often  tempted  to  complain,  the  absence  of 
such  unmistakable  outward  approval  and  guidance  as  may 
assure  us  that  each  successive  step  is  accompanied  by  the 
benison  of  the  Almighty?  It  is  just  because  we  are 
always  so  tremulously  and  faint-heartedly  looking  about 
for  it,  that  it  does  not  come.  Accept  in  an  honest  and 
good  heart  the  commission  with  which  God  has  honored 
every  Christian  as  an  agent  in  enfranchising  human  souls 
from  the  land  of  Satan  and  from  the  house  of  bondage — 
steadfastly  believe  that  He  who  hath  promised  abideth 
ever  faithful — and  the  manifestation  of  the  Divine  Pre- 
sence which  you  crave  before  you  have  earned  it,  in  prayer, 
in  enlightenment,  in  cheer  will  be  sure  to  come.  Your 
eye  is  bedimmed  because  you  insist  on  shutting  yourself 
up  in  the  dark  chamber  of  timidity  and  distrust.  Remem- 
ber the  promise  of  final  triumph  already  vouchsafed  in 
your  being  made  a  member  of  Christy  a  child  of  God,  and 
an  inheritor  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven :  pin  your  faith 
upon  that,  and  manfully  do  whatsoever  your  hand  findeth 


MOSES   AND    HIS   MISSION.  4^ 

to  do.  Then  this  hypochondria  of  the  soul  will  disappear. 
The  exercise  of  faith  will  strengthen  it.  The  sober,  quiet 
discharge  of  daily  duty,  within  your  soul  and  without,  will 
be  rewarded  by  such  clear  vision  of  God  as  He  cannot  give 
you  now  only  because  you  hang  back  from  taking  the 
means  that  are  appointed  for  acquiring  it. 

And  what,  after  all,  was  the  promise  that  so  powerfully 
affected  the  destined  leader  of  Israel  ?  No  personal 
reward — no  promise  that  in  the  slightest  degree  appealed 
to  vanity  or  ambition — no  prospect  of  popularity  or  satis- 
faction for  himself.  Simply  the  assurance  that  the  mission 
he  was  called  upon  to  undertake  should  be  fulfilled— God's 
chosen  freed  from  painful  and  degrading  bondage.-  In  the 
influence  of  that  promise  we  see  distinctly  the  nature  of 
the  soul  that  could  be  so  strongly  swayed  by  it — its  unsel- 
fishness, its  readiness  to  immolate  itself  if  so  the  designs 
of  God  might  be  furthered.  His  previous  ill-starred  effort 
had  been  balked,  we  have  reason  to  suppose,  because  the 
sad  experience  of  life  had  not  as  yet  sufficiently  impressed 
upon  him  the  need  of  single-hearted  devotion  to  a  cause 
which  might  bring  to  him  no  outward  reward.  Now  he 
is  under  no  delusion  on  that  score.  He  has  tried  the 
people  and  found  them  wanting.  No  human  appeals  to 
their  generosity,  no  attempts  to  revive  in  their  bosoms  the 
love  of  liberty  which  they  should  have  inherited  from 
their  fathers,  the  wild  shepherds  of  the  desert — none  of 
these  things  could  be  counted  upon.  They  would  be  mur- 
muring, stiff-necked,  rebellious,  unthankful.  And  in  clear 
prevision  of  all  this,  simply  and  solely  that  God's  plan 
might  be  fulfilled,  and  that  His  chosen  people  might  enter 
upon  the  first  stage  of  their  religious  education,  he  shook 
off  his  doubts  and  girded  himself  to  the  work.  All  he 
3 


50  MOSES    AND    HIS    MISSION. 

wanted  was  that,  whether  in  spite  of  themselves  or  not, 
whether  at  the  cost  of  winning  their  hatred  or  not,  he 
might  free  them,  and  might  have  the  assurance  of  their 
future  as  the  people  of  God  in  seeing  them  worship 
Jehovah  on  the  mountain  where  he  then  received  his 
commission  as  their  leader. 

What  floods  of  light  does  this  shed  upon  the  temper 
with  which  our  own  endeavors  should  be  made.  True,  our 
own  spiritual  growth  and  education  are  inseparably  bound 
up  with  our  efforts  to  set  forward  the  salvation  of  all  men. 
You  cannot  work  faithfully  in  any  sphere,  for  others, 
without  having  in  larger  and  larger  measure  the  reward 
of  devoted  action.  But  the  motives,  the  prospects,  incit- 
ing you  to  undertake  any  Christian  work  may  be  of  very 
various  descriptions.  It  happens,  not  seldom,  that  the 
mere  emptiness  of  one's  life — its  lack  of  absorbing  inter- 
ests, leads  one  to  begin  a  course  of  activity  simply  in  order 
to  have  something  to  do.  There  is  in  most  characters  of 
the  better  sort,  a  capacity  for  taking  pleasure  in  the  exer- 
cise of  natural  gifts,  which  may  be  the  controlling  interest 
to  a  much  greater  degree  than  is  readily  felt  to  be  the  case. 
And  wherever  such  is  the  prompting  and  prevailing 
motive,  instead  of  a  pure  desire  for  God's  glory  and  the 
welfare  of  men,  there  you  have  something  which  may 
more  fitly  be  compared  to  Moses'  first  undertaking,  with 
its  inevitable  failure,  than  with  this  second  beginning  on 
which  our  thoughts  have  dwelt  this  morning.  Such 
natural  gratification* is  inevitable  and  proper.  Moses, 
doubtless,  in  his  forty  years'  guidance  of  the  people,  must 
have  had  an  innocent  and  hearty  sense  of  pleasure  in  ex- 
ercising the  gifts  as  a  leader  of  men  with  which  he  was  so 
preeminently  endowed.     But  with  him,  on  more  than  one 


MOSES   AND    HIS    MISSION.  51 

occasion,  this  very  pleasure,  or  the  bitterness  when  it  was 
disappointed,  led  him  astray ;  and  he  was  most  truly  ful- 
filling his  duty  when  leaping  into  the  breach  between  the 
self-willed  people  and  their  offended  God,  and  imploring  that 
his  name  might  be  blotted  out  of  the  Book  of  Life, 
rather  than  that  the  people  should  be  destroyed  for 
their  iniquities.  And  this,  despite  occasional  relapses 
into  a  less  noble  mood,  must,  I  think,  have  been  the  habi- 
tual attitude  of  his  mind — pure,  unselfish  devotion  to  the 
great  work  of  delivering  and  educating  the  people,  and 
bringing  them  in  safety  to  the  land  of  promise,  notwith- 
standing their  rebellion,  and  thanklessness,  and  pusillanim- 
ity. Such,  certainly,  is  the  mood  in  which  alone  we  can  work 
successfully.  As  the  task  must  be  undertaken  originally, 
not  on  the  ground  of  visible  and  unmistakable  signs,  but 
in  the  faith  of  a  promise  hereafter  to  be  fulfilled — as  that 
promise  itself  is  not  one  tempting  to  our  natural  selfishness, 
so  too,  the  daily  cheer  and  the  daily  reward  that  are 
vouchsafed,  will  be  neither  reward  nor  cheer  to  us,  unless 
we  supremely  long  for  them  to  come  in  a  spiritual  way. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  laborer  in  the  field  of  education. 
If  his  aim,  however  unconsciously  to  himself,  be  to  have 
many  pupils,  a  smoothly-working  machinery,  a  triumphant 
outward  success,  and  if  he  really  find  himself  prizing  his 
results  of  this  kind  niore  than  the  growing  spirituality  and 
quiet  earnestness  of  those  who  are  under  his  influence ; 
then  this  latter  harvest  is  gravely  endangered :  he  will 
gain  results  only  of  the  kind  which  he  lays  himself  out  to 
gain. 

The  man  whose  work  is  in  the  sphere  of  what  is  com- 
monly called  benevolence,  must  not  look  for  more  than 
Moses  got  of  trust,  or  thanks,  or  success  in  elevating  the 


52  MOSES   AND    HIS    MISSION. 

objects  of  his  bounty  and  his  labor.  Personal  satisfaction 
is  rarely  won  to  a  very  great  extent  in  these,  or  any  simi- 
lar undertakings ;  and  where  it  comes  in  large  measure  it 
has  a  strong  tendency  to  interfere  with  the  acquisition  of 
that  which  we  were  meant  to  earn  first  of  all. 

That  is  faith.  To  gain  it  is  the  main  reason  why  we 
are  called  upon  at  all  to  work.  In  order  that  we  may  gain 
it,  we  are  not  bribed  at  the  outset  with  the  visible  rewards 
which,  if  we  had  them,  would  hinder  the  growth  of  trust 
in  God  by  teaching  us  to  look  for  support  down  at  them, 
not  up  to  Him.  For  its  sake  all  that  is  noble  in  us,  our 
belief  in  an  eternal  love  and  an  eternal  right,  is  appealed 
to  by  the  promise  that  at  last,  far  off,  there  shall  come  as 
the  guerdon  of  our  faithful  labor,  the  everlasting  triumph 
of  love  and  right.  It  is  only  when,  with  the  full  under- 
standing of  the  task  it  undertakes,  and  of  the  obstacles  in 
the  way  of  its  performance,  the  soul  has  weighed  and 
chosen,  that  the  general  promise  of  aid  widens  out  into  far 
more  than  was  plainly  intimated  at  first.  The  soul  that 
has  deliberately  made  such  a  choice  is  the  one  to  which 
the  fullest  disclosure  of  the  Godhead  is  vouchsafed.  Its 
victory  is  already  won  by  virtue  of  this  single,  true-hearted 
act  of  faith.  Over  and  above  the  pillar  of  cloud  by  day 
and  of  light  by  night  which  guides  and  shields  all  men 
who  are  in  earnest,  Heaven  grants  to  such  that  intimate 
unveiling,  that  diviner  companionship,  in  view  of  which  the 
promise  of  a  coming  Messiah  took  the  form  that  He  was 
to  be  One  who  should  be  like  unto  Moses.  And  all  this 
came  to  him,  as  it  must  come  to  us,  in  virtue  of  the  faith 
which  took  the  glorious  promise  of  God  alone,  as  the 
sufficient  support  for  action,  the  all-satisfying  object  of 
desire,  the  self-evidencing  proof  of  final  mastery. 


V. 

THE  POWER  THAT  WORKETH  IN  US. 

"  He  ■'^  *  *  is  able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask 
or  think,  according  to  the  power  that  worketh  in  us." — Eph.  iii.  20. 

This  is  certainly  a  very  great  and  precious  promise. 
The  power  of  God,  we  are  told,  is  such  as  to  do  exceeding 
abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or  think.  Not,  indeed, 
that  our  ordinary  asking,  or  our  common  thinking  is  such 
as  befits  the  calling  wherewith  we  are  called.  Among 
ourselves,  gathered  here  to-day  in  the  House  of  God,  the 
ardor  of  spiritual  aspiration  is  probably  not  what  we  our- 
selves feel  it  should  be.  The  things  in  God's  gift  do  not 
impress  our  imaginations  as  the  matchless  splendor  of  the 
new  Jerusalem  smote  the  mind  of  St.  John  the  Divine ; 
nor  do  our  longings  find  vent  in  such  wrestlings  of  the 
soul  as  were  witnessed  by  the  silent  olives  of  Gethsemane. 
But  such  as  they  are — such  as  the  experiences  of  life 
have  made  us,  sometimes  divinely  guided  to  chisel  out  a 
noble  image,  and  sometimes  acting  only  as  hard  usage 
afiects  the  coin, — such  as  our  prayers  and  thoughts  are, 
God  is  able  to  do  far  more  than  we  eitber  ask  or  think. 
This  promise  should  be  to  us  what  the  loan  of  unlimited 
credit  is  to  one  who  is  hard  pushed  in  his  affairs.  He  is 
hampered  in  every  business  enterprise  by  the  inability  to 
practise  that  truest  economy  (in  the  old  sense) — that  wise 
and  thorough  adaptation  of  means  to  ends — that  sage 
provision  against  loss  and  accident  which  requires  large 

53 


54  THE    POWER   THAT    WORKETH    IN   US. 

outlay  at  the  start.  Undertakings  in  which  a  keen  eye 
beholds  the  promise  of  abundant  gain  are  closed  to  him, 
because  the  necessary  risks  are  beyond  his  reach.  But 
the  generous  loan  of  a  millionaire's  unlimited  credit  places 
him,  at  a  bound,  far  beyond  the  reach  of  hindrances  which 
have  hitherto  impeded  him  in  his  path  to  success.  The 
golden  key  opens  portals  at  which  sagacity,  unaided, 
would  have  knocked  in  vain. 

Such  is  the  promise  —  the  declaration  of  the  text. 
Whatever  spiritual  enterprise  we  may  have  thought  of — 
whatever  of  self-conquest  experience  may  have  made  us 
feel  to  be  necessary — whatever  religious  heights  we  may, 
aroused  by  another's  success,  have  dreamed  of  scaling — 
here  is  the  warrant  of  success.  No  obstacle  can  impede 
him  who  is  backed  by  Almighty  power.  Every  Satanic 
wile  must  be  foiled,  every  fiery  dart  of  the  wicked  one 
must  fall  blunted  against  the  armor  of  God  with  which,  if 
we  please,  we  may  be  clothed.  We  have  asked  but  little, 
it  may  be,  and  that  timidly,  and  hardly  looking  to  receive 
a  tithe  of  what  we  requested.  But  here  is  the  warrant 
for  unlimited  asking — for  requests  such  as  no  saintliest 
soul  that  ever  lived  has  more  than  realized  in  its  earthly 
career.  And  yet  we  do  not  rise,  or  hardly  rise  to  the 
level  of  our  Prayer-Book  supplications, — scarce  able  to 
believe  that  prayers  expressly  meant  for  ordinary,  daily 
use,  do  not  soar  into  realms  that  it  were  impious  for  us  to 
dream  of  invading. 

Whence  comes  this  strange  contrast  between  what  is 
offered  and  what  is  accepted  ?  Is  it  that  we  really  believe 
God  to  be  uttering  untruths,  when  He  so  frankly  offers  us 
His  boundless  might  in  working  out  our  salvation,  and 
urges  us  to  avail  ourselves  of  it  in  the  unending  conflict 


THE  POWER  THAT  WORKETH  IN  US.        55 

we  have  to  maintain  against  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the 
devil  ?  Or  is  it  that  we  do  not  care  to  conquer  more  than 
we  are  conquering  now, — that  our  paltry  victories  fully 
content  us,  and  we  feel  as  little  desire  to  soar  above  our 
ordinary  level,  as  to  abandon  the  solid  earth  and  poise 
unrestingly  above  the  storm-tossed  ocean  with  the  alba- 
tross's tireless  pinions  ? 

Some  answer  there  surely  must  be,  and  I  do  not  think 
it  is  the  former.  Sad  experience  may  have  convinced  us 
that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  shall  never  attain  to  complete 
mastery  over  our  inner  weaknesses,  or  our  external  foes. 
But  we  do  not  doubt,  I  hope,  that  God  has  the  power  He 
so  unhesitatingly  offers  to  confer  upon  us.  Nor  can  we 
be  sure  that  the  second  answer  is  exhaustive  for  all. 
Whatever  may  be  the  case  with  many,  even  of  those  who 
have  tasted  of  the  heavenly  gift  and  the  power  of  the 
world  to  come,  it  is  not  true  that  all  find  in  indiff'erence 
the  secret  of  their  comparative  failure  to  gain  that  which 
is  declared  in  the  text  to  be  within  their  grasp.  With 
intervals  of  discouragement  and  despondency,  with  mo- 
ments when  they  are  cast  down  by  the  ill  success  of  some 
real  effort,  there  are  many,  we  cannot  but  think,  who 
really  want  to  be  better  and  purer  and  stronger  than  they 
are — whose  lives  are  darkened  by  nothing  so  much  as  by 
the  disappointment  they  meet  with  in  the  endeavor  to 
become  so.  Where  then  lies  the  explanation  ?  Why  is 
it,  that  with  boundless  power  at  our  command,  and  even 
with  no  deeply-grounded  unwillingness  to  use  it,  so  large 
a  portion  of  it  should  be  left  unused  as  the  ordinary  ex- 
perience of  Christians  would  seem  to  imply  ? 

The  answer,  so  far  as  it  is  not  contained  in  disbelief  or 
indifference,  is  to  be  found  in  the  concluding  words  of  the 


56  THE    POWER   THAT   WORKETH    IN   US. 

text.    God  is  indeed,  so  far  as  His  power  and  His  willing- 
ness are  concerned,  able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly  above 
all  that  we  do  or  can  ask,  or  think.     There  is  no  difficulty 
for  Him  when  temptation  confronts  us,  in  showing  us,  side 
byside  with  the  allurement,  the  infinitely  sweeter  reward 
to  be  found  in  the  sense  of  victory.     For  Him  it  is  not 
hard,  when   we  are  minded  to  slumber  beside  our  dying 
lamps,  to  make  us  alert  like  the  wise  virgins,   "whose 
lamps  are  always  trimmed,  and  whose  pure  hearts  keep 
modest  watch."    So  far  as  readiness  or  power  goes,  on  His 
part,  there   is    no   reason   why  there  should  not  always 
gleam  before  our  eyes  the  vision  of  the  Celestial  City,  in 
the  flood  of  whose  clear  light  the  noisome  glare  of  sin's 
gaudiest  revels  should  show  like  the  loathsome  thing  it  is. 
It  is  for  no  lack  of  power  or  will  in  Him  that  harm  comes 
to  us.     But  that  power  and  will  are,  in  conformity  to  His 
plans  for  us,  exerted  only  ^^  according  to  His  poioer  that 
worketh  in  us.'"     To  display  it,  no  matter  how  we  meet 
it — to  flash  upon  us  the  true  light  when  we  do  not  steadily 
care  whether  we  have  it  or  not — to  spare  us  all  the  exer- 
tion, and  so  to  deprive  us  of  all   the  good,  that  by  the 
laws  of  our  nature  we  must  earn  if  it  is  really  to  he  good 
for  us — this  were  for  Him  to  stultify  Himself — to  elaborate 
a  world  for  the  purpose  of  educating  us,  and  then  put 
into  our  lazy  hands  a  key  where,  without  understanding 
or  profiting  by  a  single  lesson,  we  should  find  mechanically, 
the  answer  to  every  problem,  and  the  solution  of  every 
doubt.     Under  such  a  futile,  self-contradictory  treatment, 

"  — to  our  smooth-rubbed  soul  would  cling 
Nor  form  nor  feeling,  great  or  small :  " 

our  natures  would  remain  at  last,  undeveloped  as  at  the 


THE    POWER   THAT   WORKETH    IN   US.  57 

beginning.  The  potent  tonic,  temptation,  which  we  dimly 
see  far  back  in  the  cycles  of  eternity  invading  Heaven 
and  testing  the  fidelity  of  Seraphim  and  Cherubim,  which 
was  needful  to  perfect  the  human  nature  of  Christ  him- 
self, would  have  been  without  fruit,  because  without  real- 
ity, to  ourselves  ;  and  glory  and  blessedness,  a  taste  for 
which  seems  capable  of  being  awakened  only  thus,  would 
glow  before  us  without  awakening  a  single  responsive 
yearning. 

To  those  who,  without  at  all  reflecting  upon  these  deeper 
necessities  of  their  nature,  have  grasped  the  promises  of 
God,  such  considerations  come  with  very  sore  disappoint- 
ment. Before  experience  showed  them  their  mistake,  and 
while  they  were  still  under  the  impulse  by  which  their 
Christian  course  was  begun,  it  seemed  that  only  wilful 
blindness  could  account  for  any  one's  being  other  than 
triumphant.  Now,  under  the  light  of  trial  they  find  that 
victory  is  no  such  easy  thing  as  they  fancied ;  and  careless 
whether  this  very  difficulty  be,  or  be  not,  necessary  to  give 
worth  to  any  victory,  they  throw  up  the  apparently  hope- 
less conflict.  They,  like  those  in  Christ's  parable,  receive 
the  word  with  joy,  and  having  no  root,  for  awhile  believe, 
and  in  time  of  temptation  fall  away ;  or  going  thoughtless- 
ly forth,  are  choked  with  the  cares  that,  for  its  own  good, 
beset  every  spiritual  life. 

Let  us  not  be  so  foolish.  Let  us  endeavor  to  learn 
thoroughly  a  secret  whose  value  is  great  enough  for  God 
to  think  it  worth  such  a  price  as  the  death  of  His  own 
Son,  and  the  unending  struggles,  from  youth  to  the  grave, 
of  those  saints  whose  blood  is  dear  in  His  sight. 

Let  us  take  an  illustration  familiar  to  us  all.  Your 
nervous  system,  suppose,  is  weakened  and  deranged  by  any 

3* 


58  THE   POWER  THAT  WORKETH   IN   US. 

one  of  those  numerous  influences  which  so  swarm  in  this 
hot,  eager,  yet  self-indulgent  life  of  the  second  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century — by  excessive  mental  toil,  by  anxiety, 
by  sorrow,  by  over- taxing  the  powers  of  enjoyment.  Your 
physician  orders  you  a  powerful  tonic,  and  tells  you  just 
how  you  have  been  trangressing  the  laws  of  health.  You 
look  at  the  little  phial  that  contains  the  prescription,  and 
think  exultingly :  Here  is  the  remedy  for  my  ailments.  No 
more  sleepless  nights — no  more  wretched  days,  overspread 
by  a  nameless  and  indefinable  apprehension  of  evil — no  more 
shrinking  from  the  common  task,  once  willingly  and  eagerly 
performed,  but  of  late  so  unutterably  wearisome  a-nd  dis- 
gusting. In  that  little  space  is  contained  the  cure  for  all 
that  has  made  my  life  a  burden.  Yes,  and  so  it  is,  only 
under  certain  conditions.  You  cannot  derive  from  it  what 
you  say,  truly  enough,  it  has  to  give  you,  if  you  go  on 
draining  your  life  out  by  the  very  practices  which  have 
brought  you  into  your  present  condition.  Above  all, 
great  as  is  the  curative  value  gf  the  medicine,  you  can 
gain  from  it  no  benefit  whatever,  unless  you  take  it  as 
you  are  ordered,  so  that  its  subtle  virtues  may  creep  in 
salutary  currents  through  your  system,  driving  out  the 
morbid  humors  that  hinder  Nature's  processes,  lending 
strength  to  the  over-tasked  nerves,  and  restoring  the  bal- 
ance of  body  and  soul. 

All  this  we  know  very  well,  often  as  we  choose  to  forget 
it.  And  still  more  forgetful  are  we  in  general,  of  the  par- 
allel obtaining  between  such  a  medicine,  and  the  medicine 
which  God,  the  physician  of  the  soul,  bids  us  use.  In 
exact  proportion  as  we  allow  His  power  to  work  within  us, 
shall  we  find  lying  ready  to  our  hand  the  power  without, 
by  which  we  may  be  more  than  conquerors  in  every  spirit- 


THE   POWER   THAT  WORKETH   IN   US.  59 

Tial  conflict.  And  the  reason  for  this  arrangement,  un- 
pleasing  as  it  sometimes  appears,  lies  upon  the  surface, 
and  is  illustrated  by  our  experience  in  other  departments 
of  life.  Almost  always,  accompanying  success,  is  the 
temptation  to  make  too  much  of  one's  own  agency  in 
bringing  it  about.  Fortunes  or  reputations,  made  in 
reality  by  a  lucky  hit,  or  an  unforeseen  combination  of  cir- 
cumstances, rather  than  by  any  special  ability, — how 
familiar  are  we  with  the  sight  of  pride  and  self-shfficiency 
based  upon  this  sandy  foundation !  It  is  like  Louis  XIV. 
blandly  accepting  as  his  due  the  fulsome  adulation  of 
court  preachers  and  poets,  when  his  military  exploits  were 
mainly  confined  to  appearing  when  victory  was  already 
assured  by  the  genius  of  Turenne  or  Cond^.  Nor  is 
there  any  less  disposition,  but  rather  more  to  indulge  in 
a  similar  illusion  regarding  our  religious  advance.  Who 
does  not  remember  how,  when  a  temptation  often  yielded 
to  before,  has  upon  two  or  three  occasions  been  overcome, 
the  trivial  victories,  whose  only  chance  of  becoming  the 
rule  lay  in  unceasing  watchfulness,  have  been  immediately 
laid  hold  of  and  assumed  to  be  the  beginning  of  an  un- 
broken succession  of  triumphs  ?  Viewed  in  the  light  of 
such  displays  of  our  disposition  to  over-estimate  our  -moral 
power,  it  grows  quite  plain  how  the  working  of  divine 
power  within  us  must  of  necessity  be  the  measure  of  the 
help  given  us, — of  the  fulfilment  of  God's  promises  to  us. 
Picture  to  yourself  the  result,  were  this  state  of  things 
broken  up.  Temptations  the  most  subtle,  trials  apparently 
the  most  decisive  as  to  our  union  with  God,  would  be 
resisted  or  endured  triumphantly,  and  all  this  without 
even  remotely  testing  the  one,  or  giving  evidence  of  moral 
power.     Some  inexplicable  strength  would  be  felt  to  flow 


60        THE  POWER  THAT  WOEKETH  IN  US. 

into  US  without  a  moment  of  that  which  is,  indeed,  one  of 
the  highest  manifestations  of  the  soul's  true  vitality, — 
the  pause  before  temptation, — the  consciousness  of  weak- 
ness,— the  deep  sense  of  sin's  hatefulness, — the  passionate 
appeal  to  celestial  aid,  followed  by  the  spurning  of  evil, 
and  the  close  feeling  of  God's  nearness  and  love  which  He 
means  should  be  the  consequence  and  reward  of  all  this. 
Under  such  circumstances  as  I  have  supposed,  however, 
all  this,  or  as  much  of  it  as  would  still  remain  possible, 
would  be  almost  as  mechanical, — almost  as  completely 
devoid  of  moral  character  and  consequence  as  the  move- 
ment of  a  locomotive  piston  on  the  admission  of  steam. 
He  who  imagines  the  mere  resistance  to  wrong,  preceded 
and  followed  by  nothing,  to  be  the  whole  of  religion,  is 
wide  of  the  mark,  and  sorely  needs  to  have  his  ways  of 
looking  at  spiritual  matters  overhauled.  He  is  living 
far  down  upon  a  level  lower  than  that  of  the  barest, 
baldest  unreligious  morality.  He  overlooks  completely 
the  nature  of  the  problem,  and  the  relation  man  sustains 
towards  God.  Such  a  view  is  a  reproduction  in  another, 
and  even  less  worthy  form,  of  that  materialism  which, 
when  dealing  with  the  body  and  what  we  call  mind,  so 
revolts  our  highest  instincts.  And  more  than  this,  it 
leads  almost  directly  and  necessarily  to  a  pride  that  is  of 
itself  the  most  destructive  of  all  defects  to  a  genuinely 
spiritual  life.  For  however  much  at  sea  we  may  some- 
times find  ourselves  regarding  other  uses  of  temptation, 
we  are  all,  I  suppose,  agreed  as  to  one  point,  viz.,  that 
whether  it  be  resisted  victoriously,  or  surrender  be  hon- 
estly repented  of,  it  does  bring  us  into  closer  relations 
with  God.  Once  separate  victory  over  it  from  the  work- 
ing within  us  of  the  divine  Spirit, — in  other  words,  allow 


THE  POWER  THAT  WORKETH  IN  US.        61 

me  to  feel  that  I  am  sure  of  conquering,  no  matter  how 
little  joy  I  find  in  God's  presence,  no  matter  how  little 
value  I  set  on  the  Saviour's  love  or  the  Spirit's  pleading, 
and  then  God  is  practically  wiped  out  of  existence  so  far 
as  my  spiritual  dependence  on  Him  is  concerned.  To  all 
intents  and  purposes,  human  nature  being  what  it  is,  every 
religious  history  would  be  a  repetition  of  that  which  some 
one  has  called  a  "perfect  life,"  but  which,  despite  its 
relative  nobleness,  cares  not  to  claim  from  Jesus  Christ 
any  atonement,  any  mediatorship,  anything,  in  short,  save 
the  example  that  success  and  experience  have  furnished 
for  even  the  most  self-sufficing  strength,  before  trial  has 
taught  it  to  distrust  itself. 

And  again,  as  to  even  the  joy  of  religious  life,  let  us 
see  what  would  be  the  effect  of  disjoining  the  gift  of  divine 
power  in  the  soul  from  any  cultivation  on  its  own  part  of 
the  affections  and  dependence  which  the  natural  working 
within  us  of  the  divine  Spirit  would  bring  about. 

St.  Paul  will  seem,  to  most  of  us,  a  very  noble  speci- 
men of  the  way  in  which  religion  affects  character.  Any 
trait  which  we  find  prominent  in  him,  as  the  result  of  his 
illumination  on  the  one  hand,  and  of  his  endurance  and 
experience  on  the  other,  it  would  require  very  clear  and 
convincing  reasons  to  make  us  think  other  than  the  proper 
working  of  religion.  Now  what  do  we  find  to  be  St. 
Paul's  habitual  attitude  of  mind  regarding  this  matter, 
of  which  he  has  given  us  in  the  text  a  striking  exposi- 
tion ?  Self-reproach,  repentance  for  sin,  deep  conscious- 
ness of  natural  frailty,  of  all  these  we  find  traces  on  every 
page  of  his  Epistles.  We  find  no  less  marked  also,  in  the 
mingled  mass  of  his  experiences,  a  noble  triumph  and 
confidence  in  the  power  of  the  redeemed  soul  to  master 


62        THE  POWER  THAT  WORKETH  IN  US. 

the  sin  wliicb.  doth  so  easily  beset  us.  ''  Thanks  be  to 
God  which  giveth  us  the  victory."  "  In  all  things  we  are 
more  than  conquerors."  Such  outbursts  are  met  with 
continually.  But  how  do  they  aifect  him  ?  Is  this  jubi- 
lant confidence  a  confidence  of  which  he  is  himself  the 
center  ?  Does  he  impress  us  as  a  man  who,  having 
laboriously  gained  the  power  of  quelling  sin,  now  rests 
serenely  upon  his  hard-won  strength,  acknowledging  in- 
deed his  debt  to  divine  grace,  yet  now  feeling  but  dimly 
his  obligations  to  it,  as  we,  when  we  dash  ofi"  a  letter,  are 
but  distantly  alive  to  what  we  owe  to  our  writing-master 
in  childhood  ? 

Utterly  different  is  his  tone.  Keen  as  must  be  the  joy 
to  every  self-respecting  creature  at  having  spurned  the 
wrong  and  done  the  right,  we  are  never  allov/ed  by  the 
great  Apostle  to  think  that  this  was  what  gave  him  the 
truest,  deepest  joy.  Always  the  delight  is  based  upon  its 
intimate  connection  with  the  in  working  Spirit,  with  the 
ceaseless  interchange  of  love  between  himself,  the  strug- 
gling Christian,  and  the  benign  Author  and  Finisher  of 
his  faith,  looking  down  well-pleased  upon  his  achieve- 
ments, and  holding  forth  to  his  eager  sight  the  crown 
which  was  reserved  for  him.  Strike  out  this  element 
from  his  exultation  and  you  annihilate  it  for  him.  The 
contrast  for  him  between  victory  won  for  and  by  himself, 
without  this  blessed  consciousness  of  Christ's  share  and 
interest  in  it,  and  victory  gained  under  his  eyes,  would 
be  the  contrast  between  an  endless  Arctic  summer's  day, 
dazzling  the  sight  with  pitiless  gleam  from  unbroken 
fields  of  ice,  and  snow,  beautiful  but  hard,  cheerless,  in- 
tolerable,— between  this  and  the  green,  placid,  peace- 
breathing   spring   of    our   own    more   favored   latitudes, 


THE  POWER  THAT  WORKETH  IN  US.        63 

where,  as  you  gaze  upon  the  fertile  landscape,  light  and 
warmth  seem  visibly  translating  themselves  into  verdure 
and  perfume.  ''We  are  more  than  conquerors:"  yes, 
but  all  is  naught  unless  you  add  :  "  through  Him  who 
loved  us  and  gave  Himself  for  us."  "  God  giveth 
us  the  victory : "  but  how  ? — "  through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ?" 

For  a  two-fold  reason  then,  unless  here  the  great  Apos- 
tle's experience  is  to  be  regarded  as  misleading,  is  our 
success  in  using  the  unlimited  grace  vouchsafed  to  us 
conditioned  by  the  response  it  meets  within  us.  Without 
such  a  response — without  seeing  in  *our  inner  life  the 
main  thing,  of  which  outer  success  is  but  the  indispensable 
symbol  and  result,  the  fullest  outpouring  of  power  would 
make  our  souls  barren,  fill  us  with  pride,  and  so  destroy 
the  very  thing  for  which,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  trial  and 
temptation  are  assigned  us  at  all.  And  in  like  manner 
the  delight  with  which  a  properly  conducted  religious  life 
should  reward  us  would  disappear,  leaving  us  to  the  not 
only  fruitless,  but  joyless,  prosecution  of  an  enterprise  in 
which  the  most  essential  condition  of  success  is  that  the 
affections,  not  the  will  alone,  should  be  profoundly  inter- 
ested. 

Am  I  mistaken  in  supposing  that  the  truth  conveyed  in 
the  text  is  much  needed  by  us  all  ?  Do  I  err  when  I 
think  that  with  many  of  us  the  temptation  is  strong  to 
measure  religious  growth  by  outward  things  which  are  by 
no  means  always  connected  with  it,  leaving  too  much  out 
of  view  that  inner  life  upon  which,  in  reality,  the  worth  of 
all  external  actions  depends  ?  We  have  been,  I  trust,  in 
conformity  with  the  solemn  words  we  heard  last  Sunday, 
"  so  trying  and  examining  ourselves,  (and  that  not  lightly 


64       THE  POWER  THAT  WORKETH  IN  US. 

and  after  the  manner  of  dissemblers  with  God,  but  so)  that 
we  might  come  holy  and  clean  to  such  a  heavenly  feast,  in 
the  marriage  garment  required  by  God  in  Holy  Scripture, 
and  be  received  as  worthy  partakers  of  that  Holy  Table." 
How  have  we  conducted  this  examination?  I  fear  it  has 
too  often  been  in  a  spirit  that  overlooked  the  truth  an- 
nounced by  St.  Paul — in  a  spirit  that  thought  to  measure 
religious  progress  as  we  measure  miles  on  a  turnpike,  by 
external  marks ;  and  not  as  restoration  to  health  is  deter- 
mined, by  the  condition  within.  The  former  have  their 
value,  and  one  whose  neglect  is  indicative  of  an  utter  loss 
of  spiritual  life  :  you  can  never  dispense  with  them,  and 
say  :  though  I  yield  to  lust  and  passion  and  worldliness 
without  sorrow,  yet  I  am  in  a  cheering  condition,  and  need 
not  bestir  myself  to  amend  my  ways.  Such  self-deception 
is  horrible  and  disastrous ;  but  I  believe  it  to  be  rarer  than 
the  others,  and  on  the  whole  not  so  dangerous,  because 
more  certain  to  be  speedily  scattered  to  the  winds.  But 
the  other  may  go  on  long  without  an  awakening ;  and  it  is 
against  this  that  I  would  to-day  especially  warn  you. 
Mere  habit,  shame,  a  feeling  of  responsibility,  as  we  daily 
behold  in  lives  which  make  no  pretense  of  being  religious, 
may  produce  an  outward  demeanor  on  the  strength  of 
which,  if  that  were  all,  a  man  utterly  irreligious  might 
present  himself  at  the  holy  feast  to  which  you  are  called. 
But,  over  and  above,  though  unquestionably  embracing 
this,  there  must  be  the  consideration  of  that  which  Scrip- 
ture calls  "  the  hidden  man  of  the  heart."  Ask  yourselves 
then,  not  merely  how  many  times  you  have  prayed,  but 
also  and  mainly,  how  you  have  approached  the  throne  of 
grace.  Inquire  not  only  whether  you  have  kept  yourself 
from  open  transgression,  but  also  why, — whether  because 


THE   POWER   THAT   WORKETH   IN   US.  65 

you  had  learned  from  old,  sad  experience  that  you  should 
suffer  more  in  the  end  from  yielding  than  from  resisting, 
or  from  the  only  true  Christian  reason,  that  it  was  hate- 
ful to  God,  ungrateful  to  Christ,  disastrous  to  your  reli- 
gious condition.  In  short,  let  the  investigation  be  not  so 
much  how  divine  power  has  been  used  (though  this,  I 
again  repeat,  is  also  vitally  important),  as  whether  corres- 
sponding  to  apparent  gains  in  the  breaking  up  of  evil 
habits  and  the  forming  of  better  ones,  there  has  manifested 
itself  a  heartier,  more  pervasive,  more  thorough  working 
of  God's  Spirit  within  you.  If  the  previous  self-inspection 
has  been  at  all  as  searching  as  it  should  have  been,  then 
even  though  sufficient  attention  may  not  have  been 
directed  especially  to  this  one  point,  a  little  thought  may 
now  avail  to  convince  you  of  your  oversight,  awaken  your 
feeling  of  its  importance,  and  arouse  within  you  the  spirit 
in  which  alone  you  are  rightly  prepared  to  receive  the 
body  and  blood  of  the  Eedeemer.  And  as  you  join  with 
me  in  the  solemn  confession,  you  will  be  prepared  to  re- 
ceive with  advantage  that  declaration  of  the  remission  of 
sins  which  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  hath  given 
his  ministers  power  and  commandment  to  make.  As  I 
utter  those  mysterious  words  I  know  not  with  whom  they 
are  to  take  effect.  I  only  know  that  they  can  be  of  use 
to  none  but  those  who,  by  hearty  repentance  and  true 
faith  are  learning  more  and  more  deeply  that  God's  power 
to  do  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or 
think,  is  ours  only  according  to  the  power  that  we  welcome 
and  try  to  have  work  ceaselessly  within  us. 


VI. 


HEARING  AND  DOING. 

"  But  be  ye  doers  of  the  word,  and  not  hearers  only,  deceiving  your 
own  selves."-  -St.  James  i.  22. 

In  this  first  chapter  of  St.  James'  epistle  there  is  a 
close  connection  of  thought,  in  spite  of  the  surface  ap- 
pearance to  the  contrary.  Referring,  it  would  seem,  to 
some  peculiar  stress  of  temptation  which  had  befallen 
those  whom  he  addressed,  or  to  some  doctrine  gaining 
influence  among  them  as  to  the  source  of  temptation,  and 
the  irresistible  fatality  attaching  to  it,  he  points  out  in  the 
first  two  divisions  of  his  exhortation,  that  trial,  so  closely 
connected  with  inward  sinfulness,  is  yet  distinctly  or- 
dained by  God  with  the  most  loving  of  purposes,  and 
then,  that  grace  to  improve  it  is  to  be  sought  from  Him 
who  is  the  bestower  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift. 

The  Christian  understanding  of  the  meaning  and  object 
of  life  is  the  only  one  which  at  all  meets  the  difficulties  of 
the  subject.  This  native  sinfulness,  whence  temptation 
derives  its  potency,  is  to  be  eradicated  in  only  one  way. 
"  Of  His  own  will,"  says  the  apostle,  "  begat  He  us  by  the 
word  of  truth,  that  we  should  be  a  kind  of  first-fruits  of 
His  creatures."  By  the  new  birth,  always  assumed  as  the 
starting-point  of  a  life  of  true  moral  progress,  we  were 
endued  with  the  excellent  gift  of  resistance  to  sin,  and 
final  triumph  over  it.  Yet  this  same  gift,  he  proceeds,  is 
not  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  power  working  by  itself.  Quite 
66 


HEAEING   AND   DOING.  67 

the  contrary.  Its  very  nature,  as  a  regenerating  force  for 
the  moral  being,  demands  not  merely  the  passive  acqui- 
escence of  the  will,  but  active  exertion  in  improving  to 
the  uttermost  the  opportunities  it  affords.  We  are  begot- 
ten anew,  indeed,  by  the  word  of  truth  and  for  the  high- 
est conceivable  end, — with  the  purpose  of  exalting  us  to 
the  position  of  chief  among  the  creatures  of  God.  "  But 
be  ye  doers  of  the  word,  and  not  hearers  only,  deceiving 
your  own  selves.  For  if  any  man  be  a  hearer  of  the . 
word  and  not  a  doer,  he  is  like  unto  a  man  beholding  his 
natural  face  in  a  glass  ;  for  he  beholdeth  himself  and  goeth 
his  way,  and  straightway  forgetteth  what  manner  of  man 
he  was." 

It  is  this  noble  exposition  of  one  of  the  most  profound 
of  spiritual  truths  on  which  I  propose  to  dwell  for  a  while 
to-day.  Nor  is  it  simply  as  a  part  of  the  divine  philosophy 
of  the  human  soul  that  I  propose  to  consider  it, — rather 
as  one  to  which  it  behooves  us  urgently  to  take  heed  lest 
at  any  time  we  should  let  it  slip. 

There  are  various  appearances  at  the  passing  moment 
which  combine  to  give  peculiar  cogency  to  the  need  of 
pointing  out  the  evils  of  a  vague  acceptance  or  toleration 
of  Christianity,  with  no  attempt  to  be  more  than  merely 
hearers  of  the  Word.  It  is  hard  to  know  in  what  spirit 
to  regard  much  of  what  is  currently  written  and  said  on 
the  subject  of  Christ  and  Christianity.  The  coarse  and 
vulgar  ranting  of  a  century  ago  was  more  repulsive,  cer- 
tainly, than  the  cool  and  dignified  manner  of  discussing 
the  Saviour's  nature  and  history  at  present  in  vogue 
among  those  who  totally  reject  His  claims  to  human  ado- 
ration as  verily  and  indeed  God.  But  whether  it  were  not 
better  for  the  moral  interests  of  the  world  that  men  should 


68  HEARING   AND   DOING. 

distinctly  understand  what  must  be  their  choice,  is  quite 
another  question.  As  a  matter  of  mere  taste,  one  would 
certainly  prefer  to  study  the  hostile  system  of  thought 
when  couched  in  the  glowing  and  poetical  language  of 
Lecky  or  Huxley,  or  in  the  cool  judicial  pages  of  Herbert 
Spencer,  than  in  the  coarse  blasphemies  of  Tom  Paine,  or 
in  the  shallow,  though  earnest,  caricatures  of  Voltaire. 
But  the  point  I  am  insisting  upon  is  this :  Christianity 
must  be  true  or  false, — Christ  must  be  truly  God,  or  a 
shallow  enthusiast,  if  not  a  conscious  impostor.  Either 
He  was  miraculously  born;  and  miraculously  rose  from  the 
dead,  or  else  He  was  guilty  of  advancing  claims  both 
blasphemous  and  foolish.  Either  He  should  be  adored,  or, 
with  whatever  pitying  regret  over  his  fanatical  self-decep- 
tion, He  should  be  placed  with  Mohammed,  Joe  ^  Smith, 
and  Joanna  Southcote.  For,  unless  we  are  to  pick  and 
choose  according  to  no  principle,  but  only  by  mere  whim, 
among  the  statements  of  the  New  Testament,  He  certainly 
did  put  forth  claims  which  no  merely  human  being,  in  his 
right  mind,  could  honestly  have  advanced.  He  who  said  : 
"  I  and  my  Father  are  one,"  and  ''  He  that  hath  seen  me 
hath  seen  the  Father," — who  made  no  attempt  to  explain 
away  what  the  Jews  understood  to  be  the  claim  to  make 
Himself  equal  with  God, — this  person  can  properly  be 
made  the  object  of  no  regard  midway  between  adoration 
and  contempt. 

Now  it  is  in  its  tendency  to  obscure  this  issue  that  I 
find  so  much  to  object  to  in  the  decent  and  popular  talk 
and  writing  of  the  day  among  unbelievers.  Starting,  so 
far  as  can  be  seen,  with  no  critical  principle  but  a  disbe- 
lief in  miracle,  they  reject  the  entire  Gospel  of  St.  John, 
as   written    too   long  after  Christ's  death  to  give  us  any 


HEARINi;    AND    DOING.  69 

trustworthy  account  of  His  character.  They  reject,  as 
additions  for  which  the  Evangelists  and  tradition  alone 
are  responsible,  every  thing  in  the  other  Gospels  which 
.  implies  Christ's  Grodhead :  and  all  this  only,  for  the  most 
part,  because  it  strikes  them  so, — because  they  feel  sure 
that  so  and  so  must  be  a  later  addition ;  and  in  the  teeth 
of  all  possible  evidence  from  Christian  writers,  in  quota- 
tion and  reference,  reaching  down,  at  the  very  least,  to 
some  years  before  the  death  of  the  Apostle  John.  And 
then,  having  attempted  thus  to  deprive  Christianity  of 
any  historical  foundation,  they  pick  and  choose  among 
the  fragments  that  are  left,  to  manufacture  an  ideal  pic- 
ture of  Christ  which  shall  present  no  features  but  such  as 
a  singularly  good  man  may  have  presented,  and  patronize 
Him  as  a  very  noble  and  admirable  type  of  human  charac- 
ter. In  this  way  it  is  that  by  vague  assertions,  and  de- 
nials quite  as  dogmatic  as  have  ever  proceeded  from  the 
pulpit,  they  contrive  to  blind  men's  eyes  to  that  issue  of 
which  I  have  been  speaking.  People  who  have  been  im- 
pressed with  the  Gospel  account  of  our  Lord,  and  have 
had  strong  impulses  to  give  themselves  up  heartily  to  His 
service  as  the  Redeemer  of  Mankind, — people  who  would 
shrink  back  disgusted  from  the  ribaldry  once  current — 
are  bewildered  by  finding  what  looks  so  like  fairness  and 
judicial  impartiality  united  with  open  or  thinly-veiled 
rejection  of  every  thing  most  prominent  in  the  ordinary 
conception  of  Him.  They  think  they  see  a  way  by  which 
they  may  still  the  long-felt  craving  of  their  hearts  for  a 
Saviour.  And  as  men  are  never  over  eager  to  make  the 
sacrifices  involved  in  a  true  profession  of  the  Christian 
faith,  this  new  Gospel  finds  numerous  adherents  among 
those  who,  if  they  had  had  to  choose  between  the  two 


70  HEARING   AND    DOING. 

things  which  really  are  presented  to  them,  the  entire  ac- 
ceptance or  total  rejection  of  the  Christ  of  the  Gospels, 
would  unquestionably  have  become  Christians.  As  they 
fancy  they  are  following  the  independent  conclusions  of 
their  mind  and  conscience,  they  adopt  this  middle  course, 
though  the  amount  of  credulity  involved  in  such  a  plan 
is  certainly  considerably  greater  than  that  involved  in  the 
other.  They  must  take  their  arguments  ready-made  from 
some  one  else.  They  are  utterly  unable  to  read  the  Bible 
in  its  original  tongues.  They  have  neither  the  time,  the 
culture,  nor  the  disposition  to  make  a  profound  examina- 
tion for  themselves ;  and  I  think  I  am  rather  understating 
than  overstating  the  truth  when  I  assert  that  the  blind 
deference  paid  to  the  utterances  of  leading  writers  on  the 
side  of  unbelief  is  greater  than  that  paid  by  the  typical 
old  woman  of  the  Christian  Church  to  her  favorite 
preacher,  at  which  they  are  never  weary  of  directing  the 
shafts  of  their  raillery. 

I  have  spoken  so  much  at  large  on  this  point  because  I 
observe  that  many  regard  the  commendation  now  so 
generally  paid  to  our  blessed  Lord,  even  by  those  to  whom 
He  is  only  a  good  man,  as  something  in  all  respects  a 
matter  for  congratulation.  I  cannot  think  so.  In  some 
ways  it  is ;  and  I  have  never  doubted  that  it  is  a  step  to- 
ward true  faith  in  Christ  in  some  cases.  But  in  the  ma- 
jority of  instances,  I  am  firmly  persuaded  that  it  is  not 
so.  The  excuse  it  affords  to  one  not  much  in  earnest  is 
very  attractive.  It  frees  him  from  the  need  of  coming  to 
a  solemn  resolve  as  to  devoting  his  life  to  God  or  refusing 
to  do  so.  Ignorant  and  blindly  led  as  in  the  vast  majority 
of  cases  such  action  most  unquestionably  is,  it  has  never- 
theless, what  is  to  many  minds  a  powerful  fascination — 


HEAKING   AND    DOING.  71 

that,  namely,  of  taking  one's  position  apart  from  that  of 
men  ordinarily — 

"  Holding  no  form  of  creed, 
But  contemplating  all.'' 

And  it  is  a  growing  tendency.  I  am  as  thankful  to  God 
as  any  man  for  the  increasing  earnestness  which  animates 
the  Church,  as  well  as  other  Christian  bodies,  in  this 
country  and  in  England  particularly,  but  also  throughout 
many  parts  of  the  world.  I  am  not  saying,  observe,  that 
the  Church  is  not  growing,  and  with  unexampled  rapidity, 
both  in  numbers  and  in  zeal.  What  seems  to  me  an  un- 
mistakable fact  is  that  the  influence  of  this  powerful 
movement  is  diminished  by  the  new  attitude  taken  by  the 
enemy — that  many  who  would  pass  into  the  fold  of  Christ 
are  stopped  on  their  way,  and  many  hindered  even  from 
setting  out,  by  swallowing  an  opiate  of  the  kind  I  have 
been  describing.  It  does  not  necessarily  produce  the 
effects  which  some  heated  Christian  writers  would  ascribe 
to  it — that  of  ruining  the  moral  character  and  leading  on 
to  immorality.  Such  assertions  are  as  foolish  as  they  are 
unjust.  But  so  far  as  concerns  what  history  shows  to  be 
the  mightiest  known  agency  in  making  men  better  and 
purer — so  far  as  concerns  their  admission  of  Christ  to  the 
occupancy  of  their  souls  and  the  guidance  of  their  lives, 
its  influence  is  very  wide-spread. 

Now  St.  James  is  discussing  a  question  so  closely  allied 
to  this  of  which  I  speak,  that  I  may  appropriately 
enough  apply  what  he  says  to  the  modern  form  of  error. 
He  is  speaking  to  men  who  had  passed  through  that  stage 
in  the  religious  career  which  consists  in  gaining  a  clearer 
view  of  a  man's  position  towards  God,  and  receiving  the 


72  HEARING   AND    DOING. 

first  impulse  toward  living  a  Christian  life — what  we  or- 
dinarily term  conversion.  It  is  plain  enough  from  the  re- 
buke addressed  to  them,  that  they  had  not  followed  this 
up  to  its  natural  consequences,  but  had  so  far  relaxed 
their  efiforts  as  to  frame  an  utterly  false  notion  of  what 
was  tlieir  duty.  They  rested  in  that  first  stage  or  tried 
to  do  so,  forgetful  of  the  truth  that,  like  the  water  of  bap- 
tism, grace,  of  which  it  is  the  outward  and  visible  sign,  is 
corrupted  by  stagnation.  He  puts  it  to  them  then  most 
forcibly,  that  the  influence  of  the  divine  impulse  which  had 
been  vouchsafed  them  was  transitory  in  its  nature  unless 
accompanied  by  earnest  effort.  That  which  must  precede 
any  true  Christian  life — an  understanding  of  their  sinful- 
ness, the  hatefulness  of  sin,  and  the  means  appointed  by 
God  for  its  forgiveness — all  this  was  like  a  man's  sight 
of  himself  in  a  mirror.  Unless  repeated — unless  made 
habitual — it  would  fade  away  from  the  memory  ;  and  all 
the  repentance,  all  the  abhorrence  of  sin,  all  the  self-surren- 
der to  the  divine  will  and  guidance,  all  the  devotion  to 
the  soul's  true  welfare,  would  die  out,  and  give  place  to 
that  self-deception  to  which  we  so  easily  allow  ourselves 
to  become  subject. 

He  addressed  himself  to  men  who  had  distinct  con- 
sciousness of  their  having  been  begotten  anew  by  the  word 
of  truth, — who  had  definitely  taken  the  perfect  law  of 
liberty  as  the  rule  of  their  life.  But  the  grades  of  divine 
influence  are  as  manifold  as  the  moral  and  intellectual  en- 
dowments of  men.  One  frequent  device  of  our  ghostly 
enemy  for  keeping  souls  out  of  the  reach  of  Christ's  elevat- 
ing, and  purifying;  and  strengthening  influence  is,  to  per- 
suade them  that  they  must  wait  to  profess  themselves  Chris- 
tians until  they  have  experienced  some  earthquake  of  tho 


HEARING   AND   DOING.  73 

soul  that  shall  be  as  unmistakable  as  that  which  levels  a 
city  to  the  ground.  And  it  is  only  when  we  feel  and 
acknowledge  that  truth  which  St.  James  so  beautifully 
makes  his  own  from  some  Greek  poet* — only  when  we 
gratefully  accept  the  blessed  teaching  that  every  good  gift 
and  every  perfect  gift  is  from  above,  and  cometh  down 
from  the  Father  of  "  heavenly  and  spiritual  "  luminaries, 
with  whom  is  no  irregularity,  or  shadow,  or  change,  or 
eclipse — it  is  only  then  that  we  understand  how  benign 
are  His  fatherly  mercies,  and  how  much  more  impartial  is 
the  illumination  vouchsafed  the  souls  of  mankind,  than 
the  fickle  and  oft-eclipsed  light  of  sun  and  moon  by  which 
our  earthly  needs  are  supplied.  No  :  wherever  a  holy 
impulse  is  felt  the  Apostle  teaches  us  to  see  the  influence 
of  the  divine  Spirit.  No  matter  how  produced  or  how 
resisted,  it  is  His  work.  Whether  immediately,  as  in  those 
very  rare  cases  when  men  have  been  suddenly  arrested  by 
resistless  power,  like  St.  Paul,  or  Gardiner,  or  Bunyan,  or 
in  the  far  commoner  way  of  teaching  or  private  personal  ap- 
peal, or  yet  again  through  the  means  of  Christianity  in  its 
softening  and  moulding  influence  on  surrounding  society 
every  where,  we  are  taught  that  human  nature,  itself  in- 
capable of  holy  impulses,  that  is,  impulses  towards  God's 
personal  service,  is  the  conscious  or  unconscious  subject  of 
mysterious  and  divine  action. 

If  then,  a  truth  so  revealed,  and  so  approving  itself  to 
our  humbler  and  more  reverent  self-inspection,  be  a  truth 
meant  for  application,  the  bidding  of  St.  James  remains  ap- 
plicable to  all  cases  where  one's  religious  nature  is  in  any 
way  touched  and  attracted  toward  holiness,  or  personal 

*  naaa  doatg  ayad'fj  kol  ndv  dcjpTjfta  T£2.eiov. 


74  HEARING    AND    DOING. 

devotion  to  a  personal  God.  In  this  wide  conception  of 
the  Holy  Spirit's  activity  who  can  flatter  himself  on  being 
free  from  the  solemn  responsibility  of  hearing  the  direct 
appeal  from  God:  "  Give  me  thine  heart?"  For,  in  one 
way  or  in  another,  every  one  must  have  memories  more  or 
less  recent — more  or  less  distinct — of  times  when  the 
serene  joy  of  a  life  hid  with  Christ  in  God  presented  itself 
to  him  as  the  one  thing  on  which  his  heart  might  be  se- 
curely fixed  among  all  the  changes  and  chances  of  this 
mortal  world.  You  may  habitually  drown  that  still, 
small  voice,  but  the  memory  of  having  once  heard  it — that 
is  something  you  cannot  drown.  The  bulwark  of  argu- 
ments against  Christianity  derived  from  knowledge  or 
from  ignorance — from  the  lamentable  defects  of  Christians 
on  the  one  hand,  or  on  the  other  from  the  lofty  demands 
of  Christianity,  (or  by  a  strange  unreasonableness,  from 
both  at  the  same  time,) — all  this  defence  on  which  you  or- 
dinarily rely  so  confidently,  once  proved  no  more  substan- 
tial a  barrier  than  the  closed  door  where  the  Apostles  were 
assembled :  Christ  once  passed  silently  and  irresistibly 
through  them  all,  and  found  you  behind  your  fancied  de- 
fences. He  met  you  face  to  face,  and  claimed  you  as  His 
own  child  by  virtue  of  His  death  to  ransom  you.  It  may 
have  been  for  only  a  moment :  it  may  have  been  during 
weeks  and  months.  You  may  go  your  way,  but  you  can- 
not wholly  forget  in  heart,  however  it  may  be  in  your 
life,  what  manner  of  meeting  that  was.  And  therefore  I 
claim  you — Christ  claims  you — as  one  who  knows  what  the 
word  is,  of  which,  if  you  would  not  die,  you  must  be  a 
doer,  and  not  a  hearer  only. 

Observe   what   the   inspired   apostle   suggests   as    the 
only  explanation  of  this    latter   course   on    the   part  of 


HEARING   AND    DOING.  75 

one  who  has  thus  heard  the  word  of  life.  Commend- 
ing itself,  as  where  faithfully  uttered  it  does,  to  man's 
conscience  in  the  sight  of  God,  the  only  way  of  get- 
ting any  rest  from  its  importunities,  is  to  fancy  one's 
self  out  of  God's  sight.  I  do  not  hesitate  for  one  moment 
to  admit  that,  in  some  cases,  or,  indeed,  at  some  periods  of 
Christian  history,  as  a  general  rule,  the  religion  of  Jesus 
has  been  so  presented  as  not  to  commend  itself  to  any 
man's  enlightened  conscience,  in  the  sight  of  God  or  out 
of  it.  When,  for  personal  attachment  to  Christ,  men  sub- 
stitute a  mere  set  of  barren  dogmas  about  Him, — when 
the  deepest  yearnings  and  instincts  of  human  nature  are 
outraged  by  depicting  Christ  as  justly  suffering  the  real 
wrath  of  God  the  Father  directed  against  His  own  sinless 
and  obedient  Son, — when  Christianity  is  mixed  up  and 
adulterated  with  teaching  that  sin  and  its  punishment 
may  be  bought  off  by  fastings  and  vigils  and  hair-shirts 
and  stripes, — under  all  these  perversions  there  is  pre- 
sented something  that  revolts  the  manly  reason ;  and  no 
wonder  that  this  protest  should  find  vent  in  rebellion  and 
hostility. 

Very  much  of  the  unbelief  of  a  century  ago  in  Europe 
was  the  direct  and  natural  fruit  of  the  disgust  entertained 
by  such  courageous  men  as  Voltaire  for  the  organized 
corruption  and  tyranny  that  presented  itself  to  him  as  the 
^'^  Holy  "  Church.  Much  of  what  we  find  in  our  own  day 
is  to  be  laid  at  the  Church's  own  door.  In  halting,  worldly 
living — in  narrow  and  fanatical  bigotry — in  unreasonable 
claims — in  unfair  argument — in  blustering  attempts  to 
drown  the  voice  of  honest  and  sincere  inquiry  among 
God-fearing  men  really  competent  to  make  inquiry — in 
these  and  many  other  ways  some  have  done  an  injury  to 


76  HEA^RING   AND    DOINa. 

the  cause  of  Christianity  which  can  be  repaired  in  no  way 
so  well  as  by  frank  and  sorrowful  admission  of  all  mis- 
takes that  have  been  made.  But  while  making  such  ad- 
mission, I  by  no  means  admit  that  there  is  any  excuse  for 
a  man's  adopting  such  an  estimate  of  Christians  generally. 
It  would  be  an  admission  which  the  facts  do  not  justify  to 
say  that  any  one  need  go  far  without  finding  plenty  of 
noble  Christians,  illustrating  daily  the  doctrine  of  God 
their  Saviour  in  all  things, — without  finding  good  store  of 
men  and  books  in  whom  ''the  sweet  reasonableness"  so 
loudly  urged  by  a  most  acrid  and  unreasonS,ble  writer  of 
the  day  is  united  with  a  deep  and  tender  faith  in  all  the 
essential  teaching  of  the  Bible.  And  it  is  because  no  fair 
mind  can  dare  for  an  instant  to  deny  this  that  I  hold  the 
apostle's  words  as  true  to-day  as  they  were  in  the  early 
glow  of  Christian  heroism  :  a  man  does  "  deceive  himself" 
if  he  pretends  to  be  unable  to  see  Christianity  incarnated 
in  lives  and  in  books  of  to-day.  He  can  hear  the  noblest 
Christianity — he  can  see  the  noblest  Christianity — he  can 
feel  the  noblest  Christianity,  by  St.  James'  own  definition 
of  pure  religion  and  undefiled,  if  only  he  will  look  for  it. 
It  is  an  influence  which  has  produced  our  civilization. 

The  darkest  periods  of  modern  history  are  those  in 
which  it  has  lost  its  hold  on  men ;  and  therefore  it  is  no 
unreasoning  prejudice  to  say  that  in  all  its  true  form  it  is 
the  world's  hope  and  main-stay.  And  so  we  come  back  to 
the  solemn  charge  of  St.  James :  "  Be  ye  doers  of  the 
word,  and  not  hearers  only,  deceiving  your  own  selves." 
There  are  many  kinds  of  doing :  belief  is  that  which 
must  underlie  all  the  rest.  Whatever  may  be  your  posi- 
tion then,  whether  nobly  or  feebly  doing  your  duty  within 
the  Church,  or  else  sadly  or  with  scorn  refusing  to  do  it 


HEARING   AND   DOING.  77 

outside  her  pale,  there  comes  this  one  command.  We  all 
need  to  heed  it  more.  But  the  one  thing  which  can 
make  it  what  we  need  is  to  settle  first  of  all  our  condition 
toward  God.  The  sense  of  our  human  dependence  upon 
Him— of  our  carnal  frailty — of  our  unutterable  obliga- 
tions to  Him  who  at  such  cost  has  redeemed  us — this  is 
what  Christ  only  can  tell  us  so  that  we  can  understand  it. 
In  that  grand  sixth  chapter  of  St.  John's  Gospel  we 
have  His  way  of  communicating  to  men  that  priceless 
truth.  He  was  asked  what  men  should  do  that  they 
might  work  the  works  of  God.  That  is  what  every  most 
earnest  soul  is  asking  now,  as  ever.  And  Christ's  answer 
is  plain :  ^*  This  is  the  work  of  God,  that  ye  believe  on 
Him  whom  He  hath  sent."  That,  so  far  as  one  man  can 
judge  for  others,  is  the  answer  which  is  most  full  of 
meaning,  and  which  covers  most  ground  for  all  who  are 
eager  in  asking  the  first  question.  '^  Believe  on  Him 
whom  He  hath  sent."  All  the  divine  nature,  all  the  need 
of  man  for  a  Saviour,  all  that  can  change  our  life  from  a 
meaningless  struggle  for  passing  objects,  seems  to  me  to 
be  contained  in  that  reply.  He  whom  God  has  sent  is 
sent,  rely  upon  it,  on  no  needless  mission.  You  need 
Him  so  mightily — so  cravingly — so  terribly,  that  that 
mighty  need  has  brought  Him  down  to  meet  it.  Here 
you  have  Him — the  incarnate  love  and  tenderness  and 
pitifulness  of  God's  great  mercy.  He  speaks  to  you — He 
pleads  with  you — He  appeals  to  you  not  to  deceive  your- 
self with  words  that  cannot  profit.  You  have  heard  the 
word :  do  it.  You  have  had  Christ  ofiered  you  :  reject 
Him  not.  "This  is  the  Father's  will  which  hath  sent 
me,  that  every  one  which  seeth  the  Son  and  believeth  on 
Him  may  have  everlasting  life ;  and  I  will  raise  him  up 


78  HEARING  AND   DOING. 

at  the  last  day."  "  Except  ye  eat  the  flesh  of  the  Son  of 
Man,  and  drink  His  blood,  ye  have  no  life  in  you." 
There,  from  the  lips  of  Christ,  are  the  promise  and  the 
warning.  To  you,  and  to  you  alone,  is  left  the  choice. 
Will  you  be  a  doer  of  the  Word,  or  a  hearer  only,  deceiv- 
ing your  own  self? 


VII. 

ISRAEL'S  DEMAND  FOR  A  KING. 

COMMUNION. 

"  And  when  ye  saw  that  Nahash,  the  King  of  the  children  of  Ammon, 
came  against  you,  ye  said  unto  me  Nay,  but  a  King  shall  reign  over  us  •. 
when  the  Lord  your  God  was  your  King.  Now  therefore  behold  the 
King  whom  ye  have  chosen  and  whom  ye  have  desired,  and  behold  the 
Lord  hath  set  a  King  over  you." — 1  Sam.  xii.  12-13. 

I  THINK  I  am  hardly  mistaken  when  I  suppose  that  for 
practical  and  devotional  uses,  a  large  part  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament has,  in  the  minds  of  many  excellent  readers  of  the 
Bible,  lost  very  much  of  its  importance.  With  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Psalms,  and  certain  portions  of  Isaiah,  probably 
the  instinctive  feeling  is  that  for  one  who  has,  or  thinks 
he  has,  but  little  time  for  Scripture  reading,  the  Old  Tes- 
tament is  not  to  be  compared  in  value  with  the  New. 
And  in  a  certain  sense  this  general  view  has  its  measure 
of  correctness ;  though  even  this  is  grossly  exaggerated 
by  our  tendency  to  lose  sight  of  one  important  fact.  No 
doubt,  supposing  that  we  had  to  choose,  which  of  the  two 
constituent  parts  of  our  Bible  we  should  retain,  the  choice 
involving  the  destruction  of  the  other  portion,  there  could 
be  no  hesitation  in  the  mind  of  any  one  who  had  drunk  in 
the  meaning  of  the  Saviour's  life,  who  had  experienced  the 
salutary  and  invigorating  effects  of  contemplating  Christ's 
wondrous  character,  and  who  had  found  the  central  truth 
of  his  spiritual  being  to  be  conformity  and  intercourse  with 

79 


80  Israel's  demand. for  a  king. 

the  atoning  Son  of  God.  But  no  such  choice  lies  neces- 
sarily before  us,  while  still,  with  the  exceptions  just  made, 
the  records  of  the  secular  dispensations  have  largely  lost 
their  importance  in  our  eyes.  I  will  not  attempt  to  in- 
vestigate how  much  of  this  may  be  due  to  re-action  from 
the  contrary  mistake  committed  during,  and  before  the 
Commonwealth  in  England  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
and  by  the  Puritans  in  New  England. 

These  two  phases  of  religion,  from  which  the  rest  of 
Christendom,  as  well  as  the  descendants  of  the  Eound- 
heads,  have  always  gotten  away  as  fast  and  as  far  as 
possible,  either  on  account  of  the  bareness  and  uncompro- 
mising simplicity  of  their  theory  of  things,  or  on  account 
perhaps  of  the  literalness  at  first  of  their  conception  of 
moral  duty.  However  much  there  may  lie  in  this  sugges- 
tion to  explain  the  fact,  a  good  deal  must  be  laid  at  the 
door  of  the  misconception  at  which  I  have  hinted.  That 
misconception  is,  shortly,  this, — an  unconscious  belief  that 
in  other  respects  as  well  as  in  regard  to  our  attitude  to- 
wards the  Old  Testament,  we  stand  in  the  same  position  as 
the  first  generation  of  Christians  immediately  after  their 
conversion.  On  them  no  doubt,  whether  converts  from 
the  Jews,  or  proselytes  from  heathenism,  the  New  Testa- 
ment possessed  claims  of  so  peculiar  a  character  as  almost 
to  call  for  exclusive  devotion  to  the  treasure  of  knowledge 
for  the  first  time  disclosed  in  its  records.  The  mind  of 
the  Jew  was  already  familiar  with  the  story,  and  saturated 
with  the  inferences  drawn  by  many  generations  of  com- 
mentators from  the  text  of  the  Old  Testament.  The  pagan 
convert  was  but  freshly  awakened  to  the  existence  of  a 
body  of  teaching  whose  simplicity  of  general  outline,  in 
spite  of  some  difficulty  in  detail,  afforded  a  joyous  con- 


iseael's  demand  for  a  king.  81 

trast  to  the  conflicting  doubts  and  speculations  of  the 
philosophical  schools,  and  whose  transcendent  purity 
shamed  the  gross  polytheism  of  heathendom :  hence,  he 
must  naturally  have  sprung  to  its  study  with  an  ardor 
which  for  a  time  could  find  room  for  no  other  pursuit.  He 
had  in  the  Grospels  and  Epistles,  the  truth  to  which  the 
Old  Testament  had  been  mainly  occupied  in  conducting, 
and  he  needed  first  to  invigorate  himself  by  assimilating 
the  principles  and  facts  of  the  New,  before  he  could  be  in 
a  position  to  understand  the  Old.  For  both  Jews  and 
heathens,  however,  this  did  not  involve  the  abandonment 
of  the  revelation  that  had  preceded. 

The  former,  as  we  know  from  history,  very  soon  came 
back  to  the  position  of  ascribing  an  even  unwarrantable 
authority  to  the  law  of  Moses.  And  the  writings  of  the 
earliest  converts  from  heathenism  show  that  they  at  once 
learned  to  look  on  the  more  ancient  records  as  standing 
on  a  level  with  them ;  not,  indeed,  as  possessing  just  the 
same  value,  but  at  least,  as  proved  by  the  innumerable 
citations  and  constant  use  in  the  illustration  and  enforce- 
ment of  Christian  duty,  in  the  light  of  an  exhaustless 
storehouse  of  lessons  in  piety  and  practice. 

With  us,  likewise,  whom  many  generations  of  Christian 

forerunners  have  enriched  with  the  inheritance  of  a  firm 

belief  in  the  New  Testament,  and  a  thorough  sympathy 

with  it,  it  is  time  that  there  should  arise  a  juster  estimate 

of  the  value  of  its  hoary  predecessor.     We  are  too  much 

inclined — I  say  this  in  spite  of  the  wearisomely -iterated 

complaints  to  the  contrary  of  many  popular  historians  and 

essayists  of   to-day — we  are  too  much  inclined,  in  the 

Church  at  least,  whatever  may  be  the  case  with  other 

religious  bodies  around  us,  to  lose  sight  of  the  theological, 

4* 


82  Israel's  demand  for  a  king. 

i.  e.  the  scientific  and  dogmatic  part  of  our  religion.  We 
are  too  much  disposed  to  think  religion  something  which 
may  be  wholly  resolved  into  feeling,  although  the  class  of 
writers  to  whom  I  refer  are  partly  right  in  reproaching 
Christians  with  so  little  doing,  that  feeling  sometimes 
grows  sickly.  That  men  in  general,  even  when  truly 
religious,  are  top-heavy  with  an  excessive  knowledge  of 
theology,  or  absorbed  by  a  too  intense  devotion  to  dogma, 
to  the  history  of  the  Church,  or  even  to  what  is  plainly 
recorded  between  the  covers  of  the  Bible,  appears  to  me 
the  most  ridiculously  groundless  accusation  ever  urged. 
Certain  conceptions  of  particular  spiritual  processes  have 
unquestionably,  in  some  cases,  outgrown  their  proper 
relative  importance, — e.  g.  that  of  the  office  of  faith,  or 
the  Atonement  even ;  yet  I  am  not  sure  but  that 
the  crying  want  of  our  times,  quite  as  much  as  more  out- 
ward activity,  is  a  deeper  study  of  the  Bible,  of  Church 
history,  and  a  more  intelligent  faith  in  the  doctrines 
which  necessarily  shape  themselves  out  of  the  statements 
of  Scripture.  Why,  the  ignorance  of  the  Bible  is  posi- 
tively astonishing !  The  best  educated  of  us  are  generally 
far  more  familiar  with  the  chronicles  of  Europe  than  with 
those  of  Israel.  Instead  of  studying  sacred  history,  and 
its  divine  principles,  as  we  study  the  annals  of  England, 
a  large  number  of  cultivated  persons  content  themselves 
with  listening  to  the  selected  chapters  which  the  Church 
provides  for  Sunday  morning,  and  have  a  painfully  vague 
and  unconnected  notion  of  the  succession  of  events  by 
which  our  forerunners  were  educated  as  the  champions  of 
monotheism.  While,  as  for  doctrine,  depend  upon  it,  one 
whose  profession  has  rendered  necessary  a  study  of  it,  is 
often  astounded  at  the  ignorance  displayed  by  men  of  cul- 


Israel's  demand  for  a  king.  83 

ture,  who  venture  flippantly  to  assail  articles  of  faith, 
without  the  faintest  glimmering  of  knowledge  as  to  the 
severely  logical  processes  by  which  (slowly  and  carefully 
aided  by  the  labors  of  many  councils  and  many  genera- 
tions), the  instructed  minds  of  the  Church  have  been  led 
to  adopt  them  as  the  only  secure  standing-ground,  against 
many  plausible  theories  which  would  inevitably  have  de- 
veloped errors  tending  to  sap  the  very  foundations  of 
Christianity. 

You  think  there  is  very  little  connection  between  all 
this  and  the  text.  I  am  brought  to  say  it  by  my  oft- 
repeated  experience  of  the  profound  value  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament. To  a  mind  which  has  drunk  in  the  principles  of 
the  New,  I  think  the  Old  presents,  not  only  a  great  deal 
of  light  on  the  most  important  points  in  the  relations  of 
God  to  man, — that  is  what  we  call  theology, — but  an  as- 
tonishing number  of  illustrations  which  serve  as  guides  in 
daily  life.  Open  it  where  you  may,  in  the  historic  por- 
tions more  particularly,  you  discover  so  close  and  singular 
a  parallelism  between  the  events  there  recorded  and  the 
spiritual  history  of  the  individual  believer  in  Christ,  that 
the  feeblest  imagination  cannot  fail  to  be  impressed  with 
the  coincidence ;  and  one  understands  how  men  should,  in 
old  times,  have  made  use  of  it  to  solve  their  doubts  by 
simply  opening  it  at  a  venture,  and  taking  the  first  verse 
on  which  the  eye  fell  as  an  oracular  utterance  for  guiding 
them  out  of  their  perplexity.  Take,  for  example,  the  trans- 
action recorded  in  this  morning's  first  lesson.  Listen  to 
the  hoary-headed  Judge  as  he  recounts  the  previous  his- 
tory of  Israel,  as  he  points  out,  through  all  their  change- 
ful past,  the  visible  guidance  of  their  invisible  King,  as 
he  recalls  to  the  minds  of  the  assembled  multitude  their 


84  ISRAEL'S  DEMAND   FOR  A  KINO. 

insane  desire  to  sacrifice  all  the  priceless  advantages 
accruing  to  them  from  God's  rulership,  in  order  that  they 
might  have  some  human  leader  for  the  armies  which  once 
conquered  all  foes,  in  the  simple  might  inspired  by  the 
conviction  that  it  was  the  Lord  who  fought  for  them. 

Listen  to  him,  I  say,  and  does  there  not  rise  up  in  your 
memory  some  vision  of  the  counterpart  to  all  this  which 
you  yourself  have  enacted  ?  Do  you  not  recall  more  than 
one  crisis  in  which  you  abandoned  the  spiritual  leadership 
which  was  educating  you  by  its  demand  for  a  pure  un- 
faltering faith  that  the  things  which  are  seen  are  temporal, 
and  the  things  that  are  not  seen  are  alone  eternal  ?  Look 
at  those  new  rulers  that  you  set  up  to  rule  over  your- 
self,— that  a  guide  belonging  to  earth  might  direct  you  in 
your  earthly  warfare,  ''  when  the  Lord  was "  already 
"your  King;"  and  even  though  the  new  ruler  might 
tower  over  other  men's  motives,  as  Saul  "was  higher  than 
any  of  the  people  from  the  shoulders  and  upward,"  see 
whether  you  have  gained  by  the  substitution.  ''Now 
therefore  behold  the  king  whom  ye  have  chosen,  and 
whom  ye  have  desired,  and  behold,  the  Lord  hath  set  a 
king  over  you." 

I  am  not  speaking  now  o'f  those  cases  in  which  you  may 
for  a  time  have  actually  abandoned  the  great  animating 
purpose  of  making  your  life  a  service  to  God.  That 
would  be  a  false  parallel,  and  would  resemble  rather  those 
cases  where  Israel  gave  itself  up  to  idolatry,  only  to  suffer 
from  incursions  of  pitiless  enemies,  in  ghastly  likeness  to 
caitiff  souls  who  have  deserted  to  the  army  of  the  devil. 
The  resemblance  in  the  present  instance  is  rather  to  those 
periods,  when,  while  acknowledging  in  general  God's  right 
to  your  fealty  and  obedience,  you  have  grown  dissatisfied 


Israel's  demand  for  a  king.  85 

with  the  pure  spirituality  of  his  rule,  and  demanded  as 
the  object  for  your  closer  and  more  immediate  homage^ 
something  else,  some  high  standard  of  duty,  some  definite 
and  distinct  mission,  some  special  rule  of  life,  which,  by 
its  iron  enactments  should  obviate  the  dangers  which,  as 
you  imagined,  made  the  pure  Theocracy  unfit  for  a  work- 
ing plan.  In  order  to  be  quite  parallel  with  the  period  of 
Jewish  history  here  dealt  with,  this  desire  on  your  part 
must  have  been  one  to  which,  in  spite  of  its  unfaithfulness 
to  Himself,  God  could  accede,  one  inspired  by  a  sincere, 
though  mistaken  belief,  in  the  greater  efficacy  of  your 
own  plan  toward  enabling  you  to  do  His  will.  This  was 
partly  the  nature  of  the  longing  of  Israel  after  a  human 
monarchy.  The  longing  was  satisfied  accordingly,  not 
simply  as  a  punishment,  but  as  a  means  of  educating 
them  by  the  painful  discipline  of  experience  for  a  more 
hearty  acceptance  of  the  Theocracy  as  the  best  govern- 
ment for  them.  Have  there  been  no  such  desires  in  our 
own  lives,  followed  by  a  deeper  conviction  that  the  im- 
mediate rule  of  God  was  our  safest  and  healthiest  con- 
dition ? 

Take,  for  example,  what  is  probably  the  experience  of 
a  large  number  of  the  highest  and  purest  souls  whom 
God  takes  into  His  great  training  school.  The  general 
view  of  the  Christian  life  presented  by  the  Bible,  seems, 
to  such  souls  brimming  over  with  large  and  noble  aspira- 
tions, a  thing  too  vague  for  reduction  to  practice  without 
some  attempt  at  making  it  more  precise  in  its  character. 
Obedience  toward  God,  yes  surely,  such  a  man  will  say  to 
himself,  that  is  a  virtue  which  is  the  very  foundation  of 
all  spirituality,  and  it  alone  causes  the  polar  distance  be- 
tween such  a  life  as  is  pleasing  to  Him,  and  the  other  life 


86  Israel's  demand  for  a  king. 

that  is  full  of  nobleness  and  earnestness,  only  deficient  in 
that  one  transforming  element.  I  can  never  commit  the 
gross  error  of  supposing  two  things  such  as  those,  so 
radically  diverse,  to  be  equally  good.  But  why  is  this 
duty  left  so  much  to  men's  private  judgment,  weak,  and 
deformed,  and  sinful  as  that  so  often  is  ?  Why  are  men 
not  everywhere  furnished  with  a  more  precise  conception 
of  what  this  great  God  is,  whom  we  must  love  and  adore  ? 
And  so  of  the  thousand  other  branches  and  varieties  of 
human  duty.  Why  are  they  left  so  indistinct  and  fluctu- 
ating that  what  to  one  generation  is  fit  and  proper,  to 
another  seems  in  violation  of  the  fundamentals,  not  only 
of  religion,  but  of  morality  ? 

If  I  have  read  off  at  all  accurately  the  ponderings  of 
many  a  God-fearing  soul,  then  it  is  easy  to  see  how  pre- 
cisely parallel  they  are  with  this  phase  of  Israelitish  story 
and  its  result.  The  oversight  in  both  cases  was  the 
same.  The  chosen  people  of  God  evinced  their  distrust 
of  Him  and  of  His  direct  personal  government  of  them,  by 
insisting  upon  looking  beyond  the  present  into  some  dis- 
tant future.  They  were  chained  down,  like  all  human 
beings,  to  dealing  in  fact,  with  that  which  lay  immediate- 
ly  before  them.  But  this  was  not  enough.  The  solemn 
oracles  which,  as  occasion  demanded,  gave  them  the  truth 
of  God,  the  human  instruments  which,  as  it  seemed  to 
them  chance,  (in  reality  their  divine  Ruler)  raised  up,  to 
free  them  from  the  oppressors,  these  were  insufficient. 
They  must  have  a  human,  visible  King,  like  their  neigh- 
burs,  to  lead  them  forth  to  battle. 

Such  precisely  in  kind,  are  the  mistakes  committed  by 
souls  of  the  class  to  which  I  am  referring.  First  there  is 
that  assumption    to  which  we  are  all  so  prone,  that  ad- 


Israel's  demand  for  a  zing.  87 

mitting  all  our  past  oversights  now  at  last  we  are  come 
to  a  point  from  whicli  we  may  look  onward,  and  form  a  re- 
liable plan  for  future  activity.  We  cannot  trust  the  slow 
wisdom  of  God,  which  would  enable  us  to  act  with  sure 
conviction  to-day,  and  leave  to  the  growing  insight  begot- 
ten of  the  faithful  discharge  of  to-day's  task,  the  under- 
standing of  to-morrow's  behest. 

We  look  anxiously  in  our  Bibles  and  are  sorely  disap- 
pointed at  not  finding  there  a  clear  definite  scheme  of  duty 
regarding  the  new  questions  which  our  generation  has  to 
face,  and  to  solve.  We  cannot  believe  that  the  divine  Spirit 
who  has  directed  us  through  the  past,  will  suffice  for  the 
problem  of  to-day.  Just  so  the  Israelites  were  all  split 
into  warring,  or  indifferent  factions  when  a  new  Gideon,  or 
Samson,  or  Barak  arose  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against 
the  mighty,  and  demanded  that  this  God-governed  state  of 
theirs,  this  yet  fluid  and  molten  mass  out  of  which  Jeho- 
vah was  purposing  to  create  a  model  for  all  the  kingdoms 
of  earth,  should  stiffen  and  harden  into  something  just 
like  what  the  nations  around  them  were  contented  with. 
But  is  it  not  plain  that  we,  in  imitating  them,  are  false  to 
the  divine  purposes  for  us  ?  We  look  around  us,  and  are 
shamed  very  often  by  seeing  in  how  trim  and  orderly  a 
way  some  human  lives  are  led  who  profess  nothing  but  a 
stern  sense  of  duty.  Our  shame  is  a  very  proper  feeling, 
and  can  hardly  be  too  deep.  But  surely  it  is  too  hasty  an 
inference  to  draw,  that  all  our  uncertainties  can  be  an- 
swered by  abandoning  the  high  hopes  which  make  possi- 
ble for  us  a  grander  future.  This  constant  possession  of 
a  perfectly  defined,  clearly-seen  object  and  a  never  doubt- 
ful method  for  reaching  it,  is  shaped  to  meet  the  exigen- 
cies and  the  wants  of  earthly  life,  and  them  alone.     It  is 


88  Israel's  demand  for  a  king. 

not  necessarily  suited  to  all  the  aspirations  of  a  life  wliich 
is  moved  and  swayed  by  eternal  forces  toward  a  goal  eter- 
nally advancing.  More  shame  for  us  indeed  if  with  God's 
lio-ht  to  guide  us,  we  do  not  distinctly  make  out  just  what 
our  duty  is  for  the  present,  and  if  with  His  arm  to  strengthen 
us  we  do  not  perform  it.  For  these  purposes  we  have,  if  we 
would  only  believe  it,  all  we  want. 

But  as  the  government  of  a  great  state,  with  its  thou- 
sand points  of  contact  with  other  nations,  and  its  strong 
sense  of  a  glorious  future,  is  more  embarrassing  than  that 
of  some  country  village,  so  is  it  better  to  belong  to  one 
than  to  the  other.  You  lead,  I  am  supposing,  a  life  that 
is  genuinely  pure  and  Christian,  and  your  doubts  and 
troubles  arise  from  the  lack  of  that  placidity  and  evenness 
of  tenor  which  you  envy  so  in  men  that  make  no  profes- 
sion of  being  Christians.  They  experience  none  of  the 
tumultuous  swayings  and  tossings  of  soul  with  which  you 
are  familiar.  Is  not  the  reason  simply  this,  that  in  all 
charity  towards  them,  and  with  all  condemnation  of  your- 
self, you  must  assume  from  their  general  demeanor  that 
they  do  not  aspire  after  God  and  His  service,  as  you  know 
men  can  do,  but  are  content  to  live  on  a  lower  plane? 
The  bare  "  duty"  for  which  they  are  ready  and  able  some- 
times to  make  so  noble  sacrifices,  is  it,  after  all,  worth 
your  while  to  buy  it  at  the  cost  of  the  Living  God's  domin- 
ion over  you  ? 

Magnificent  and  stern  as  is  the  symmetry  of  such  a 
life,  self-concentred,  having  reached  the  last  point  to  which 
it  can  aspire,  can  you  surrender,  for  its  acquisition,  those 
mysterious  yearnings  after  rest  in  the  bosom  of  God, 
those  thrills  of  revelation  from  the  unseen  depths  of  eter- 
nity, those  momentary  glimpses  of  a  Hfe  to  which  this  is 


Israel's  demand  for  a  king.  89 

but  the  vestibule  ?  Can  you,  I  ask,  surrender  these,  and 
admit  to  yourself  that  you  have  stopped  at  a  point  from 
which  you  shall  never  pass  to  climb  the  golden  stairway 
that  leads  nearer  and  nearer  to  God  forever  ? 

You  feel  painfully  that  the  Bible  does  not  contain  pre- 
cise answers  to  the  world's  questions  of  to-day.  Is  it  not 
clear  that  He  could  not,  without  destroying  the  Bible's  im- 
mediate influence,  have  made  plain  to  mankind  at  any  one 
stage  of  their  history  all  that  one  day  He  shall  look  for 
from  them  ?  The  only  thing  that  can  be  granted  to  all 
generations  alike  is  the  readiness  to  follow  Him  as  he  leads 
them  upward  along  a  path  of  which  only  a  part  can  be 
disclosed  distinctly  to  any  single  age,  leaving  its  further 
windings  up  the  mount  of  God  to  grow  dimmer  and  fainter, 
until,  at  last,  from  our  present  standing-point,  it  fades  away 
wholly  amid  the  flaming  glories  of  the  throne. 

Some  vindication,  I  think,  is  becoming  very  necessary 
of  the  ways  of  God  to  man;  some  protest  against  the 
teaching  which  is  growing  very  common  that  we  may 
safely  abandon  theology,  i.  e.  all  that  can  be  deduced  from 
the  Bible  as  to  the  relation  in  which  we  stand  to  Him, 
and  content  ourselves  with  putting  on  our  soul's  throne 
some  regal  form  of  duty  apart  from  the  direct  personal 
rule  of  God. 

The  disputes  to  which  theology  has  given  rise  have 
been  many  and  bitter.  The  extent  to  which  men  have 
substituted  a  mental  conception  of  divine  truth,  for  an 
appropriation  by  the  heart,  has  been  lamentable ;  and  in 
our  day  more  dangerous,  because  presenting  a  more  de- 
ceiving counterfeit  of  ti-ue  Christianity.  The  cultivation 
of  the  religious  tastes  and  feelings  by  all  means,  external 
and  internal,  has  given  too  much  cause  for  the  summoning 


90  Israel's  demand  for  a  king. 

back  of  humanity  to  the  mere  unaided  sense  of  duty.  We 
have  this  subtle  poison  on  every  side.  In  all  forms  of 
literature  from  the  most  artistically  perfect  novel,  or 
essay,  or  sober  history,  to  the  popular  ballad,  or  the 
magazine  sketch  which  decks  out  the  revolting  reckless- 
ness of  life  of  frontier  savages  in  the  attire  of  a  daring  and 
superb  self-sacrifice, — in  all  directions,  we  are  presented 
with  the  thought  that,  provided  only  a  man  here  and 
there  does  a  noble  thing  he  is  serving  God  as  acceptably 
as  though  the  other  three  hundred  and  sixty-four  days  of 
the  year  were  not  besmirched  with  blasphemy  and  drunk- 
enness and  lewdness.  Are  we  prepared  in  the  remotest 
sense,  to  adopt  such  a  standard  for  ourselves,  or  to  allow 
our  charity  for  other  men  to  pass  into  this  extreme  of 
laxity  ?  Are  we  ready  to  admit  that  the  mere  fitful  sense 
of  duty  is  the  last  form  of  spiritual  cultivation  ?  Are  we 
to  forget,  like  the  Israelites,  all  the  triumphs  that  the 
Church  has  achieved  with  God  at  her  head,  because  when 
she  has  lost  her  faith  in  Him  she  has  been  worsted  ?  Are 
we  like  them,  to  demand  a  king  that  belongs  to  this 
earth,  when  the  Lord  our  God  is  our  King  ? 

If  we  do,  He  will  grant  our  prayer.  We  shall  be  made 
over  to  the  dominion  of  just  the  ordinary  motives  which 
sway  humanity,  with  only  the  doubly  obscured  conscious- 
ness that,  from  some  far-off  corner  of  the  Heavens,  He  is 
watching  us.  I  am  much  mistaken  if  the  parallel  will 
not  carry  itself  out  further  than  we  dream,  till  after  find- 
ing, like  the  Israelites,  that  our  chosen  protector  cannot 
give  us  victory  in  the  battle,  we  are  brought  back  through 
some  dreary  Babylonish  captivity  to  our  old  allegiance  to 
God  as  the  only  ruler  under  whom  our  souls  can  grow.  But 
I  should  not  have  said  that  in  all  things  there  is  a  parallel 


Israel's  demand  foe,  a  king.  91 

between  God's  ancient  people  and  those  of  us  who  are 
tempted  to  put  in  the  place  of  His  guiding  Spirit  the 
earthly  fidelity  to  mere  duty  apart  from  Him..  They 
were  more  excusable  than  we.  For  as  we  assemble  round 
the  hallowed  table  to  receive  the  elements  which  convey 
spiritual  strength  to  the  believing  soul,  are  we  not  thrilled 
with  a  sense  of  shame  at  having  even  in  thought  wished 
to  dethrone  the  man  Christ  Jesus  in  our  hearts,  and  sacri- 
fice to  rules  and  principles,  however  pure  and  noble,  His 
personal  guidance  ?  While  Moses  headed  them,  the  Isra- 
elites never  demanded  any  king  but  God.  Here  is  Moses' 
antetype,  He  who  may  become  the  inmate  of  our  hearts, 
stilling  our  impatient  grasp  after  impossibilities,  nerving 
the  soul  to  achieve,  in  the  sphere  of  present  activity,  ever 
braver  feats  of  spiritual  prowess.  This  the  divine  King 
can  do,  because,  while  He  is  very  God,  He  is  no  cold,  stern 
principle,  stunting  us  into  immobility  in  this  our  moral 
childhood,  but  a  living,  breathing,  sympathizing  man,  full 
of  loving  tenderness,  strengthening  such  as  do  stand, 
comforting  and  helping  the  weak-hearted,  raising  up  those 
who  fall,  and  animating  us  with  the  prospect  of  becoming 
daily  purer,  outgrowing  all  that  we  can  now  conceive  of 
spiritual  perfection,  and  so  finally  beating  down  Satan 
under  our  feet. 


VIII. 

SUNDAY  AND  ITS  OBSERVANCE. 

As  the  American,  like  the  English  and  the  Scotch 
Sunday  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  features  of  the 
national  system,  so  Church-going  in  the  countries  named 
is  a  habit  followed  in  a  manner  quite  distinctive.  I  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  as  to  both  these  matters  there  is 
not  a  good  deal  that  is  similar  in  certain  parts  of  Ger- 
many and  of  Switzerland.  But  the  general  truth  of  what 
has  been  asserted  can  hardly  be  denied,  namely,  that 
Sunday  is  observed,  and  Church-going  practised  very  dif- 
ferently here  and  on  the  Continent  of  Europe.  A  change 
however  in  respect  to  both,  is  beginning  to  force  itself 
upon  the  attention.  This  is  particularly  the  case  in  the 
great  cities,  where  the  infusion  of  a  large  mass  of  for- 
eigners has  tended  to  affect  the  native-born  population, 
notably  as  to  the  opening  on  Sunday  of  places  of  innocent 
popular  recreation,  nowhere  so  much  needed,  perhaps,  as 
by  the  laboring  classes  of  our  great  sweltering  cities  in 
summer-time.  The  Sunday  question  has,  in  many  locali- 
ties, come  to  be  a  political  question ;  and  to  those  who 
know  little  of  the  results  where  the  foreign  population  is 
large  and  united, — to  those,  for  instance,  who  are  familiar 
with  the  Sunday  aspect  of  no  great  city  but  our  own,  it 
may  seem  that  undue  alarm  has  been  conceived,  and  un- 
duly harsh  measures  proposed  or  adopted,  with  the  view  of 
enforcing  on  all  classes  and  nationalities,  the  Sabbath 
92 


SUNDAY   AND   ITS   OBSERVANCE.  93 

views  and  practices  hitherto  prevailing  among  our  respect- 
able people.  It  is  a  very  large  question,  and  one  hardly- 
fit  for  treatment  here,  inasmuch  as  we  have  almost  none 
of  the  complications  to  deal  with  on  which  I  have  touched. 
I  believe,  however,  that  we  may  find  benefit  from  consid- 
ering it  so  far  as  relates  to  ourselves.  If  the  question  be 
asked :  What  is  Sunday,  and  how  should  we  employ  it, 
as  decent  members  of  society,  and  especially  as  Chris- 
tians ?  the  answer  may  tend  to  show  that  we  are  to  some 
extent  abusing  our  Christian  liberty,  and  in  some  direc- 
tions, perhaps,  unduly  restricting  it.  In  what  I  shall  say 
I  do  not  doubt  that  I  shall  shock  some  who  have  most 
sternly  held  by  the  old  Evangelical  view,  as  well  as  seem 
narrow  and  Pharisaic  to  those  who  have  most  completely 
abandoned  that  view  in  both  theory  and  practice.  I  should 
very  much  prefer  to  do  neither, — to  avoid  the  reputation 
of  being  lax,  and  the  imputation  of  being  narrow.  And 
so,  while  I  deplore  the  consequences  that  may  result,  I 
will  ask  you  to  listen  patiently  and  fairly  so  far  as  you 
may. 

Names  are  much  more  important  as  sign-posts  indicat- 
ing the  course  of  thought  and  feeling  than  is  generally 
supposed.  And  in  the  two  common  names  applied  to  the 
first  day  of  the  week,  we  may  find  help  in  distinguishing 
more  clearly  the  two  diff'ering  sets  of  convictions  prevail- 
ing in  regard  to  the  matter  proposed  for  our  considera- 
tion. The  names  by  which  that  day  is  called  are  Sunday 
(prevailing  generally  in  the  Church),  and  Sabbath,  whose 
use  prevails  so  widely  in  the  outside  community,  that 
when  you  write  a  notice  for  a  paper,  calling  the  day  Sun- 
day, you  have  to  give  special  directions  to  adhere  to  copy, 
or  you  find  yourself  appearing  to  prefer  the  name  Sab- 


94  SUNDAY    AND    ITS   OBSERVANCE. 

batli.  The  two  words,  as  I  have  said,  indicate  the  differ- 
ing opinions  held.  Let  us  consider  them,  beginning  with 
the  latter. 

As  the  name  implies,  those  who  use  it  regard  the  day  as 
being  essentially  what  the  fourth  commandment  tells  us 
the  Sabbath  was  to  be  among  the  Jews, — a  day  in  which 
no  work  should  be  done  but  that  which  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  keep  society  from  falling  to  pieces,  or  life 
from  being  lost.  To  this,  however,  has  been  added  the 
duty  of  not  doing  anything  but  what  has  a  distinctly 
religious  character.  This  is  the  result  of  feeling  that,  as 
some  occupation  must  be  had,  religious  duties  are  those 
that  the  spirit  of  Christianity  suggests  as  the  only  proper 
ones.  This  is  the  view  that  was  general  forty  years  ago 
among  the  classes  that  gave  most  outward  evidence  of 
being  at  all  in  earnest  with  their  spiritual  lives;  and, 
though  slowly  changing  with  those  who  once  held  it  most 
pertinaciously,  it  is  still  widely  retained.  Its  ground  is 
the  truly  noble  and  Christian  one  that  the  soul's  interests 
are  paramount  in  their  claims  to  any  others.  Inasmuch 
as  with  a  large  proportion  of  mankind  the  week-days,  as 
we  call  them,  are  filled  with  toil  which  can  be  made  reli- 
gious only  by  bringing  into  its  discharge  the  sense  of  son- 
ship  and  duty  to  God,  this  is  almost  the  only  time  left  for 
gaining  religious  knowledge,  attending  public  service,  and 
toning  up  our  souls  that  they  may  the  better  resist  the 
insidious  assaults  of  the  Evil  One,  to  which  they  are  aure 
to  be  exposed  during  the  days  that  follow.  I  say  that  this 
temper  of  mind,  this  way  of  regarding  the  matter,  is  very 
pure,  very  high,  very  clearly  revealing  an  earnest  desire 
for  spiritual  growth.  And  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  best 
Christians  we  know,  whatever  views  they  may  hold  about 


SUNDAY   AND   ITS   OBSERVANCE.  95 

others  and  their  duties,  are  in  the  habit  of  thus  spending 
their  Sundays,  that  is,  in  distinctly  religious  ways.  One 
reveres  this  spirit  instinctively,  even  when  one  cannot 
agree  with  the  arguments  by  which  the  practice-  is  some- 
times supported.  One  of  these  arguments  is  the  strict 
and  unmistakable  language  of  the  fourth  commandment. 
But  in  the  first  place,  no  attempt  is  made,  that  I  am 
aware  of,  except  in  one  insignificant  Christian  body,  to 
observe  the  day  there  specified.  No  one  tries  to  keep 
Saturday  in  this  manner ;  and  it  is  urged  that  the  same 
authority  that  has  changed  the  day  may  equally  change 
the  method  of  its  observance. 

Again,  so  far  as  the  Jewish  Sabbath  was  concerned,  our 
Saviour  Himself  in  deeds,  and  St.  Paul  in  so  many  words, 
condemns  the  observance  of  the  old  Sabbath  in  the  way 
which  was  then  common,  especially  when  it  was  looked 
upon  as  holy  in  itself — saying,  that  it  was  for  each  man 
to  follow  his  own  judgment,  that  is,  in  all  probability, 
whether  (as  the  Christian  Church  had  not  as  yet  regulated 
the  matter)  he  should  hold  the  seventh  day,  or  any  other 
day  to  be  specially  proper  for  religious  observance.  As 
to  the  manner  of  keeping  the  day;  again,  while  the 
strictest  obedience  is  never  thought  of,  there  is  wide  dif- 
ference of  view  as  to  the  extent  to  which  it  should  or  may 
be  enforced  on  those  under  our  authority  as  parents  or 
employers.  Some  most  conscientious  and  excellent  people 
so  change  the  day  from  one  in  which  its  character  can  be 
said  to  be  that  of  rejoicing  and  being  glad  to  any  but  the 
devoutest  people,  that  a  strong  distaste  for  anything  like 
religion  is  bred  in  the  minds  of  children  and  servants. 
The  attempt  is  sometimes  made  to  shut  out  all  but  re- 
ligious subjects  from  conversation,  with  results  that  are, 


96  SUNDAY   AND    ITS   OBSERVANCE. 

now  and  then,  ludicrous  enough.  In  short,  as  I  have 
said,  occupations  that,  carried  to  this  degree,  are  pleasing 
to  none  but  those  who  are  far  advanced  in  holiness  are 
enforced  upon  those  whose  natural  restlessness,  or  whose 
backward  growth  in  religious  things  makes  them  regard 
such  control  with  bitter  dislike,  while  other  innocent  oc- 
cupations are  sternly  forbidden.  The  result  in  many  and 
many  a  case  which  has  come  under  my  own  observation 
is,  that  all  that  connects  itself  with  religion  is  looked  upon 
so  wrongly  that  with  the  first  free  step  in  life  its  re- 
straints are  cast  ofi",  and  the  reaction  against  enforced 
piety  brings  about  a  melancholy  plunge  even  into  vice. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  have  presented  fully  the  arguments 
that  may  be  urged  in  defense  of  the  Sabbatarian  view ; 
nor  is  it  meant,  for  an  instant,  that  all  households  where 
it  is  held  present  the  extreme  results  spoken  of.  In  many 
cases  where  such  abandonment  of  all  moral  constraint  is 
attributed  to  undue  Sabbath  strictness  in  childhood,  this 
may  be  fully  matched  by  the  disorders  of  one  who  has 
been  raised  under  a  generous  and  wisely  liberal  system. 
But  as  the  reasons  urged  required  consideration,  mention 
of  practical  results  was  unavoidable.  Let  me  now  turn 
to  a  brief  presentment  of  the  other  side. 

According  to  this,  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  both  in  name 
and  nature  has  been  abolished.  To  Christ's  treatment  of 
the  matter  and  St.  Paul's  I  have  already  directed  atten- 
tion. As  a  duty  to  be  enforced  upon  the  members  of  the 
Christian  Church,  we  find  absolutely  no  mention  of  it. 
Instead,  the  first  day  of  the  week,  both  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment and  in  the  earliest  Christian  writings  which  follow, 
is  spoken  of  as  one  of  religious  observance  indeed,  but  of 
a  very  different  kind.     It  was  a  day  for  common  worship, 


SUNDAY   AND   ITS   OBSERVANCE.  97 

but  this  was  in  weekly  commemoration  of  Christ's  rising 
again  from  the  dead.  It  was  as  distinctly  a  new  creation 
in  its  nature,  as  any  of  the  other  Church  festivals,  like  its 
yearly  analogue,  Easter,  or  as  Whitsunday;  although, 
unlike  them,  dating  back  to  the  Apostles,  and  therefore 
having  that  superior  obligation  on  us.  It  was  a  day  of 
happy  Christian  enjoyment — that  is  of  enjoyment  primarily 
religious.  And  such,  observe,  it  continued  to  be  until 
after  the  Reformation.  The  great  continental  Reformers, 
Luther  even,  and  Calvin,  had  no  more  notion  of  enforcing 
the  Puritanic  Sabbath  than  of  rebuilding  the  Temple  at 
Jerusalem.  As  we  find  it  referred  to  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment as  the  first  day  of  the  week,  as  the  Lord's  Day,  so 
its  character  there  is  that  of  a  stated  time  for  religious 
meeting,  for  worship,  for  alms-giving,  for  celebrating  the 
Holy  Communion,  for  exhortation  and  instruction.  As 
such  for  fifteen  hundred  years  it  was  observed,  and  not 
until  the  times  of  the  English  and  Scotch  fanatics  was  it 
ever  regarded  as  a  day  when  all  that  was  not  directly  re- 
ligious should  be  forbidden  to  all,  of  every  age,  of  every 
condition,  of  every  degree  of  mental  and  spiritual  ad- 
vance. We  are  in  accord,  not  in  disagreement,  with  the 
whole  of  the  Church's  previous  history,  when  we  deny 
that  this  last  view  of  Sunday's  proper  enjoyment  is  bind- 
ing upon  us. 

But  what  follows  from  all  this,  incontestably  true  though 
it  be  ?  Does  it  follow  that,  either  as  members  of  a  Christian 
community,  or  as  living  members  ourselves  of  the  body  of 
Christ,  we  are  at  liberty  to  follow  our  own  devices  on  the 
Lord's  day,  and  to  amuse  ourselves  just  as  we  should  on 
the  fourth  of  July,  to  spend  its  hours  in  the  lax  ways  so 
common  ?  In  general,  certainly  few  of  us  are  prepared 
5 


98  SUNDAY    AND    ITS    OBSERVANCE. 

to  assume  so  much  as  that.  In  drawing  the  line  lies  the 
difficulty ;  and  it  is  just  here  that  I  want  you  to  take  what 
I  say  only  as  a  hint  toward  the  proper  solution  of  the 
problem,  not  as  meant  to  point  out  as  wrong-doers  and 
profaners  of  the  day  all  who  do  not  agree  with  it. 

As  the  first  principle  to  guide  us,  we  must  remember 
the  needs  of  our  souls,  and  the  difficulties  most  of  us  have, 
or  make,  about  satisfying  them.  In  regard  to  public 
worship  in  general,  it  would  be  cruelly  unjust  to  set  down 
the  business  man  or  the  laborer  as  indifferent,  because  he 
did  not  see  his  way  clear  to  leave  his  daily  caUing  to 
attend  service  on  all  the  holy  days  when  it  is  offered  him. 
So  in  regard  to  spiritual  exercises  generally;  the  man 
who  must  be  at  his  plough,  or  his  desk,  early  every  morn- 
ing, is,  of  necessity,  debarred  from  devoting  as  much  time 
to  prayer  or  to  reading  as  others  may  give.  But,  unless 
the  position  is  taken  that  these  things  are  needless,  it 
would  certainly  seem  to  follow  that,  where  any  earnest- 
ness is  found,  there  would  be  a  duty  and  also  a  disposition 
to  use  some  of  these  quiet  hours  in  training  himself  to 
better  knowledge  and  deeper  thought.  It  is  not  that  this 
one  day  should  present  an  utterly  different  aspect  from  all 
the  rest  of  his  life,  but  that  in  proportion  as  all  the  rest 
of  his  life  is  genuinely  swayed  by  spiritual  motives,  the 
day  when  he  is  at  liberty  to  gratify  his  deepest  desires 
would  be  increasingly  devoted  to  such  pursuits.  But, 
you  will  say,  suppose  him  not  to  be  in  just  the  mood  you 
speak  of, — suppose  him  to  be  on  the  level  of  the  great  body 
of  even  Christians,  and  not  so  ardent  about  these  things, 
how  shall  he  pass  this  day,  which  comes  round  weekly, 
and  which  he  must  pass  in  some  way,  and  which  leaves 
him  tired  and  in  anything  but  a  charitable  or  happy  frame 


SUNDAY   AND    ITS   OBSERVANCE.  99 

of  mind,  when  he  does  nothing  but  what  is  sometimes 
recommended?  That  is  just  the  difficult  question  to 
answer,  because  the  reply,  however  guarded,  is  sure  to 
be  wrested  by  some,  and  used  in  justification  of  what  they 
themselves  know  to  be  wrong.  I  would  rather  give  it  in 
private  than  in  public ;  but  as  almost  no  one  will  ask  it 
but  those  who  are  a  little  oz^er-scrupulous  already,  some 
attempt  must  be  made  in  public.  It  is  the  question  of 
one  who  practically  refuses  to  do  what  would  remove  the 
difficulty,  and  asks  how  far  he  may  allow  his  unfitness  to 
act  as  a  plea  for  not  doing  all  his  duty.  I  propose  to  give 
only  a  few  suggestions,  which  will  approve  themselves  to 
your  judgment  only  in  so  far  as  you  may  agree  with  what 
I  have  already  said.  But  I  am  often  struck  with  the  fact 
that  persons  by  no  means  remarkable  for  strictness  in  their 
general  demeanor,  have  a  decided  feeling  about  the  observ- 
ance of  Sunday,  and  need  only  a  reminder  to  arouse  them 
to"  a  more  proper  manner  of  keeping  the  day.  To  speak 
first  of  what  should  not  be  done.  If  the  day  is  to  have 
anything  of  a  religious  character,  the  reading  one  does 
should  certainly  be  to  a  large  extent  of  that  kind.  This 
may  seem  a  very  gloomy  piece  of  advice,  even  to  many 
who  call  themselves  Christians.  And  nothing  surprises 
one  more  than  the  extent  to  which  the  reading  of  religious 
books  is  neglected,  even  by  those  who  have  some  consider- 
able degree  of  culture.  The  number  of  books  of  really 
fascinating  interest  upon  such  subjects  is  very  great; 
with  all  the  charms  of  deep  scholarship,  of  glowing  fancy, 
of  keen  logic,  of  limpid  style  they  come  to  us,  especially 
from  England,  with  attractions  far  greater  than  are  pre- 
sented by  a  large  proportion  of  the  works  on  secular  sub- 
jects, which  are  devoured  so  eagerly.     Yet  they  are  not 


100  SUNDAY   AND   ITS   OBSERVANCE. 

read  to  anything  approaching  the  extent  one  would  expect, 
even  among  persons  who  profess  an  interest  in  the  subjects 
of  which  they  treat.  At  all  events  this  is  the  case  among 
the  upper  classes  so  far  as  position  and  refinement  go, 
while  those  immediately  below  them  in  these  respects 
difier  very  markedly.  If  you  want  to  know  more  about 
sacred  subjects,  however,  you  certainly  cannot  complain 
of  a  dearth  of  literature,  and  very  charming  literature,  to 
meet  your  wants. 

Another  thing  which  certainly  is  hardly  in  keeping 
with  the  sacred  character  of  the  day  is  following  the  same 
amusements  as  serve  for  relaxation  during  the  remainder 
of  the  week.  Very  few  of  those  who  amuse  themselves 
with  cards  would  think  of  spending  Sunday  afternoon  at 
such  games,  and  yet  the  day  is  sometimes  spent  in  amuse- 
ments which,  while  innocent  enough  in  themselves,  are 
certainly  quite  foreign  to  the  mood  which  sees  in  Sunday 
a  day  primarily  intended  to  elevate  and  dignify  our  na- 
ture, and  fit  us  for  a  closer  walk  with  God.  To  one  who 
deliberately  denies  this  position,  of  course  there  is  nothing 
to  be  said  on  that  point.  But  another  argument  remains 
which  has  sometimes  proved  of  weight  with  those  who 
had  some  regard  for  their  fellow-men.  The  day,  as  I 
have  said,  is  a  national  institution.  We  know  what  it  is 
on  the  Continent  of  Europe ;  and  few  of  us,  I  imagine, 
desire  to  see  the  day  degenerate  here  into  what  it  is,  for 
instance,  in  France  or  in  Spain,  where  great  public  dis- 
plays, horse-races,  elections  and  the  like  are  habitually 
held  upon  it.  But  the  change  to  such  a  view  is  vastly 
helped  by  observing  that  men  of  leisure  and  influence  in 
the  community  pay  little  or  no  attention  to  its  sacred 
character.     The  refined  enjoyments  in  which  you  choose 


SUNDAY   AND   ITS   OBSERVANCE.  101 

to  pass  your  Sunday  are  out  of  the  reach  of  most  of  those 
around  you.  If  they  learn  from  your  example  to  desecrate 
it,  as  learn  they  surely  will,  sooner  or  later,  it  will  be 
done  in  a  very  different  manner ;  in  brutal  sports  such  as 
must  debase  the  national  character.  You  may  not  enjoy 
the  day  so  keenly  if  you  place  some  restraints  on  your 
liberty  in  the  matter ;  but  the  knowledge  that  you  are 
harming  others  as  well  as  yourself  by  treating  it  with 
such  scant  respect, — the  feeling  that  you  are  contributing 
powerfully  to  destroy  the  institution  which  has  been  so 
useful  to  our  race, — to  break,  down  one  more  bulwark 
erected  against  the  inroads  of  irreligion, — these  reflections, 
one  would  think,  would  have  great  weight  with  one  who 
honestly  loves  his  country. 

I  have  made  one  or  two  suggestions — I  meant  to  do 
nothing  more — which  if  attended  to  would,  I  am  sure,  re- 
dound to  the  benefit  of  all.  Let  me  now  say  a  few  words 
about  church-going  and  certain  obvious  duties  connected 
with  it.  The  uses  of  church-going  are  plain.  One  mighty 
it  is  true,  learn  as  much,  so  far  as  facts  go,  by  staying  at 
home  and  reading  the  service  and  a  sermon ;  but  he  would 
miss  the  very  thing  for  whose  sake  we  are  bidden  not  to 
forsake  the  assembling  of  ourselves  together, — I  mean  the 
curiously  different  way  in  which  one  is  impressed,  when 
one  of  a  number,  from  that  in  which  one  feels  when  alone. 
Eeason  about  it  as  we  may,  and  extol  as  we  may  the  ad- 
vantages of  reading  over  hearing,  it  remains  true  that 
worship  in  common  supplies  us  with  something  that  would 
not  be  afforded  by  reading  at  home,  even  were  that  prac- 
tised, as  it  seldom  is,  by  those  who  willingly  absent  them- 
selves from  the  House  of  God.  The  prayers  are  fuller  of 
devotion,  the  Bible  more  replete  with  meaning,  the  teach- 


102  SUNDAY   AND    ITS   OBSERVANCE. 

ing  impresses  more  deeply,  on  just  the  same  principle  as 
that  which  draws  people  to  listen  to  a  famous  lecturer, 
even  though  his  delivery  be  mediocre,  in  preference  to 
reading  one  of  his  essays  at  home.  But  over  and  above 
this,  we  come,  or  should  come  to  church,  with  a  feeling 
that  it  is,  in  a  very  true  and  deep  sense,  the  House  of  God. 
We  come  to  confess  our  sins,  to  be  assured  of  forgiveness, 
to  pray  for  the  divine  blessing.  We  expect  a  benefit  from 
the  observance.  Such  is  the  state  of  mind  which  alone 
befits  those  who  attend  church.  What  is  one  to  think  of 
the  frames  of  mind  of  such  as  choose  habitually  to  come 
so  late  as  to  disturb  the  devotions  of  others,  or  who  are 
perpetually  whispering  or  gazing  around,  when  there,  as 
they  would  in  a  play-house  ?  Where  lateness  is  actually 
unavoidable,  and  not  due  to  Sunday-morning  laziness,  it 
is  another  thing.  But  those  who  will  reflect  how  excess- 
ively disturbing  it  is  to  people  who  want  to  attend  to  their 
religious  duties,  to  have  the  constant  interruptions,  and  the 
still  more  annoying  whispers, — such  persons  will  see  the 
propriety  of  making  an  effort  to  be  punctual  at  church, 
and  of  behaving  themselves  with  decorum  when  there. 

Many  churches,  at  the  present  day,  are  free, — hence, 
having  no  pew-rents,  they  depend  altogether  upon  volun- 
tary contributions.  Let  those  who  attend  such  a  church 
come  with  the  intention  of  contributing  to  its  support  as 
liberally  as  their  means  will  allow,  and  not  of  putting  into 
the  plate  some  insignificant  coin  which  they  are  half- 
ashamed  to  have  seen.  Giving  is  as  much,  and  as  neces- 
sary a  part  of  worship,  as  prayer. 

I  have  used  considerable  plainness  of  speech.  Where 
a  thing  has  to  be  said  perhaps  it  is  as  well  to  say  it  so 
that  it  may  be  understood,  and  on  that  principle  I  have 


SUNDAY  AND   ITS   OBSERVANCE.  103 

spoken.  For  the  matter  is  one  of  no  mean  importance. 
Upon  the  proper  observance  of  Sunday  and  its  duties, 
hinges  to  a  very  large  degree  the  spiritual  life  of  most  of 
us.  That  is  to  say,  where  Sunday  is  habitually  spent  in 
a  careless  and  non-religious  way,  there  you  may  certainly 
look  to  see  the  family  growing  up  in  anything  but  the  way 
a  Christian  parent  could  wish.  It  is  of  the  highest  im- 
portance to  ourselves,  to  the  community,  nay  to  the  nation 
and  the  world  at  large  which  we  must  increasingly  in- 
fluence, that  this  time-honored,  this  sacred  institution 
shall  retain  the  share  it  has  hitherto  had  in  moulding  the 
American  character. 

It  becomes  growingly  clear,  even  to  those  who  make  no 
profession  themselves,  that  in  Christianity  lies  the  main- 
stay of  a  nation's^  existence.  The  wild  visionaries  who 
dream  of  putting  into  execution  the  crazy  plant  of  com- 
munism, show  us  with  perfect  distinctness  the  point 
whither  natural  greed,  uncurbed  by  morals  or  religion, 
must  always  tend.  And,  whatever  may  be  our  private 
theories  or  practice,  nothing  can  blind  an  unprejudiced 
eye  to  these  two  facts  :  the  first  is  that  every  man's  dese- 
cration of  the  day  leads  to  its  violation  by  others :  the 
second  is  that  where  Sunday  is  decently  observed,  there 
you  find  peaceable,  law-abiding,  and  respectable  people.  I 
look  then  upon  the  institution  as  one  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance ;  and  I  urge  you  for  the  sake  of  your  souls,  for 
the  sake  of  family  and  country,  to  observe  it  piously,  rev- 
erently, as  becomes  a  day  which  is  set  apart  from  all  others 
with  the  distinctive  title  of  the  Lord's  Day.  In  so  far  as 
this  is  done  will  our  homes  be  more  and  more  the  abodes 
of  earnest,  manly  piety,  and  such  serene  peace  as  ever  falls 
to  his  lot  who  putteth  his  trust  in  the  Lord  and  doeth  good. 


IX. 

ALL  SAINTS. 
"  That  they  without  us  should  not  be  made  perfect."  — Heb.  xi.  40. 

In  all  ages  of  humanity,  it  is  likely,  the  craving  has 
been  felt  to  hold  communion  with  the  dead.  It  is  hard 
to  feel  that  he  who  was  yesterday  among  us,  sharing  our 
joys  and  sorrows,  limited  by  our  imperfections,  and  as 
unable  as  we  to  penetrate  the  mystery  of  being,  should 
have  suddenly  shot  ahead  by  all  the  distance  separating 
life  on  earth  from  life  in  Paradise.  Not  that  at  first  we 
envy  him  the  flood  of  light  which,  we  are  sure,  illumi- 
nates for  him  the  whole  range  of  spiritual  truth ;  so  far 
as  that  is  concerned,  we  are  tempted,  in  spite  of  our  con- 
viction that  with  the  Lord  he  is  far  better,  to  feel  about 
him  as  though  he  were  still  in  the  condition  of  weakness 
in  which  he  took  his  departure.  But  when  we  rid  our- 
selves of  this  feeling  and  learn  to  think  of  him  as  among 
the  joys  of  Paradise,  drinking  in  the  unending  stream  of 
knowledge  and  love,  we  are  penetrated  by  the  cruel  pang 
of  feeling  that  we  are  left  so  far  behind  that  we  must  be 
forgotten, — that  all  memories  of  earthly  communion  must 
be  swallowed  up  in  the  new  emotions  aroused  by  a  change 
so  total  of  environment  and  association.  This,  to  a  truly 
loving  heart,  must  be  one  of  the  keenest  pangs  in  losing  a 
life-long  companion ;  and  it  is  not  every  one  who  can,  like 
Tennyson,  wrestle  with  his  doubts,  and  work  out  the  con- 
104 


ALL   SAINTS.  105 

viction  that  Love  is  Lord  of  all — Lord  even  of  a  change 
like  this. 

Then  again,  we  want  to  know  more  of  what  actually 
lies  beyond  the  tomb — what  the  departed  are  experiencing 
now,  and  what  is  in  store  for  ourselves  when  our  summons 
shall  have  come.  And  once  more,  in  those  many  cases 
where,  while  on  earth,  the  divine  life  has  manifested  itself 
imperfectly  and  fitfully, — where,  but  for  our  faith  in  God's 
promise  of  certainly  granting  whatever  is  unitedly  asked 
by  two  or  three  of  His  faithful  servants,  we  might  doubt 
as  to  the  reality  of  a  friend's  salvation,— in  those  cases 
where  our  faith  is  unwavering  that  prayer  has  been  an- 
swered, but  where  we  know  that  our  dead  must  have  entered 
Paradise  very  imperfectly  developed  by  earthly  discipline, 
and  needing  just  those  graces  which,  were  they  on  earth, 
we  should  implore  for  them — in  cases  like  these,  the  dispo- 
sition to  accompany  them,  even  in  their  ransomed  state 
sublime,  with  our  tender  solicitude  and  prayers,  is  one 
which  is  inexpressibly  powerful. 

These,  and  such  as  these,  are  feelings  that  spring  from 
the  lowest  depths  of  our  mysterious  nature.  And  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  under  their  influence,  beliefs 
should  slowly  have  grown  up,  and  practices  have  been 
gradually  introduced,  intended  to  satisfy  these  inextin- 
guishable yearnings.  The  feeling,  for  instance,  that  our 
prayers  may,  without  presumption,  be  put  up  for  those  who 
are  departed  in  the  com.m union  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
and,  as  we  believe,  in  the  confidence,  however  feeble,  of  a 
reasonable,  religious,  and  holy  hope, — this  very  early  took 
shape ;  and  in  the  age  imniediately  following  the  Apostles, 
I  find  in  the  strange  book  known  as  the  Shepherd  of 
Hermas,  traces  of  such  a  practice.    In  the  Eoman  branch 

5* 


106  ALL   SAINTS. 

of  the  Church,  as  every  one  knows,  this  doctrine  has  con- 
nected itself  with  the  equally  unschptural  doctrine  of 
Purgatory;  and  prayers  for  the  dead  are  as  commonly 
offered  as  prayers  for  the  living.  Our  own  branch  of  the 
Church,  however,  has  not  admitted  either  of  these  views 
since  the  Reformation,  and  no  one  can  plead  for  belief  in 
them,  anything  contained  in  her  formularies.  The  doc- 
trine of  Purgatory,  at  least,  is  distinctly  condemned. 

Compared  with  what  has  arisen  from  the  other  sources* 
I  have  named,  the  practice  of  praying  for  the  dead  is,  to 
say  the  least,  much  less  harmful.  That  is  wholly  unwar- 
ranted either  by  the  Bible  or  our  Church,  and  its  prac- 
tical consequences  show  it  to  be  very  full  of  danger.  But 
those  systems  of  belief  which  spring  from  a  determination 
to  know  more  than  has  been  revealed  of  the  condition  of 
the  soul  after  death,  such  as  Spiritualism  and  Swedenbor- 
gianism,  are  degrading  and  materializing  in  the  highest 
degree.  All  that  to  a  spiritual  mind  is  purest  and  most 
elevating  in  what  we  are  told  concerning  our  future  life  is, 
in  these  systems,  dragged  down  and  bemired  in  such  a 
way  as  to  make  one  feel  that,  if  this  is  all  that  is  in  store 
for  us,  annihilation  would  be  far  preferable  to  such  disap- 
pointment of  our  loftiest  aspirations. 

But  the  Church  of  God  has  not  contented  itself  with 
condemning  the  doctrine  of  Purgatory,  and  omitting  from 
her  system  the  practice  of  prayers  for  the  dead,  as  well  as 
all  rash  attempts  that  have  been  made  to  penetrate  the 
veil  hanging  between  our  present  and  our  future  state. 
Such  a  merely  negative  position  would  ill  accord  with  her 
duty  as  the  teacher,  through  human  agencies,  of  all  that 
God  has  intrusted  to  her.  Pondering  over  the  glimpses 
afforded  in  the  Bible  into  our  future  destiny,  she  has  gath- 


ALL  SAINTS.  107 

ered  thence  all  that  sound  criticism  permits  us  to  infer  on 
this  subject,  and  has  formulated  it  partly  in  her  creed,  and 
partly  in  certain  of  her  prayers.  She  has,  moreover,  ac- 
cording to  her  wont,  not  allowed  these  truths  to  run  the 
risk  of  the  neglect  to  which  mere  words  are  liable.  She 
has  given  them  shape  by  admitting  among  the  festivals 
of  the  Church  year,  the  memory  of  certain  of  the  primi- 
tive heroes  of  the  faith  of  whom  we  have  clear  knowledge 
from  the  Bible;  excluding,  in  the  American  branch  at 
least,  all  those  about  whose  history  hangs  the  thick  veil  of 
mere  tradition.  And  in  the  festival  which  we  celebrate 
to-day,  she  yearly  summons  us  to  commemorate  all  those, 
known  by  name  or  unknown,  who,  having  finished  their 
course  in  faith,  do  now  rest  from  their  labors. 

An  article  of  the  Apostles'  Creed  teaches  us  to  believe 
in  the  Holy  Catholic  Church  as  being  not  confined  to 
those  who  at  any  period  of  the  world's  history  are  fight- 
ing the  Lord's  battle  on  earth,  but  as  being  composed  of 
all  Saints,  both  those  living,  and  those  who  are  now  at 
rest  in  Paradise.  Nor  is  this  all.  The  expression  used 
to  convey  this  grand  conception  of  the  Church  suggests, 
or  rather,  most  distinctly  declares,  not  only  that  all  these 
are  one,  but  that  there  exists  among  all,  irrespectively  of 
any  separation  caused  by  death,  a  Communion ;  so  that 
we  do  not  in  the  Creed  make  two  articles  out  of  these  two 
thoughts,  but  profess  a  belief  in  the  Holy  Catholic  Church 
as  itself  being  the  Communion  of  Saints.  The  Church  is, 
under  one  most  true  aspect,  such  a  communion. 

But  you  may  say,  is  this  all  ?  This  craving  to  know 
more  of  the  mysteries  of  the  future  state — future  to  us 
but  present  to  the  faithful  departed — this  yearning  by 
our   prayers    to  help  them  on  as  we  used  to  help  them 


108  ALL  SAINTS. 

when  they  were  with  us — this  desire  that  we  should  not 
be  deprived  of  their  intercession  now  that  they  have 
passed  beyond  the  stage  of  discipline  and  are  so  much 
better  able  to  pray  for  us  than  when  earthly  hinderances 
made  their  supplications  less  fervent  and,  so,  less  effica- 
cious— is  there  nothing  to  answer  all  these  deep-seated 
longings  more  than  the  assurance  that  there  exists  a 
vague  communion  between  us  and  them  ? 

I  feel  in  all  its  force  the  yearning  that  gives  birth  to 
questions  like  these  even  though  they  are  not  often  dis- 
tinctly asked.  And  because  I  appreciate  it,  and  am,  at 
the  same  time,  convinced,  that  there  is  danger  and  pre- 
sumption in  pressing  beyond  what  the  Bible  tells  and  the 
Church  proclaims  on  this  matter,  I  propose  to-day  to  point 
out  how  much  there  is  in  this  article  of  the  Communion 
of  Saints,  as  our  Church  teaches  it,  to  meet  every  legiti- 
mate demand. 

In  the  first  place,  as  to  the  state  of  the  faithful  departed. 
A  notion  prevails  among  some  Christian  bodies  that  the 
faithful  are  at  once  admitted  after  death  to  heaven — 
meaning  by  that  word  the  full  state  of  perfected  bliss. 
Such  a  view  makes  of  the  Last  Judgment,  so  far  as  their 
condition  is  concerned,  a  mere  formality.  It  is,  moreover, 
very  hard  to  reconcile  with  the  Biblical  words  employed 
in  making  the  few  distinct  statements  vouchsafed  on  the 
condition  of  the  soul  before  the  Judgment.  Thus,  for  in- 
stance, our  Saviour  said  to  the  penitent  robber  that  he 
should  be  with  Hivi  that  day  in  Paradise.  But  we  know 
that  our  Lord  did  not,  either  on  that  day  nor  for  many 
days  afterward,  ascend  into  heaven;  for  He  distinctly 
told  His  disciples  so.  We  know  likewise,  that  during  the 
period  between  His  death  and  His  resurrection  He  went 


ALL  SAINTS.  109 

and  preached  unto  the  spirits  in  prison — that  He  descended 
into  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth,  as  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Paul  assure  us.  That  state  or  place  then,  that  is  called 
Paradise,  or  Hades  (that  is  the  invisible),  was  a  place  or 
state  in  which  were  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  and  to  it, 
along  with  Christ,  went  the  soul  of  the  robber.  But, 
though  spoken  of  as  a  prison,  so  far  as  the  wicked  are 
concerned,  it  is  nevertheless  spoken  of  at  other  times 
when  the  spirits  and  souls  of  the  righteous  are  treated  of, 
as  a  place  or  state  of  bliss,  to  which  such  a  man  as  St. 
Paul  looked  forward  with  eager  yearning,  as  one  whose 
delights  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord  were  so  powerfully 
attractive,  that  much  effort  was  needful  if  he  would  bear 
contentedly  the  burden  of  daily  duty  and  the  care  of  all 
the  Churches.  The  word  used  in  the  original  is  totally 
different  from  those  employed  concerning  the  state  of  final 
bliss  or  that  of  final  woe.  Its  derivation  and  meaning 
imply  that  it  is  mysterious,  but  not  that  it  is  other  than 
full  of  joy  to  faithfu!  souls. 

We  are,  further,  led  to  the  same  conclusion  (viz.,  that 
Hades,  or  the  place  of  departed  spirits  is  different  both 
from  hell  and  from  heaven)  by  reflecting  on  the  very  em- 
phatic way  in  which  we  are  told,  in  the  first  place  that 
the  soul  will  not  be  rejoined  with  the  body  until  the  final 
resurrection,  in  the  second,  that  flesh  and  blood  cannot 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  in  the  third,  that 
the  last  stage  of  God's  dispensations  (that  is  the  entrance 
of  human  souls  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven)  will  not  be- 
gin until  this  corruptible  shall  have  put  on  incorruption — 
which  in  St.  Paul's  grand  chapter  to  the  Corinthians, 
evidently  means :  until  we  shall  have  been  reunited  with 
our  spiritual  body.     If  entrance  to  heaven  (in  the  full  and 


110  ALL   SAINTS. 

proper  sense  of  that  word)  is  possible  only  after  the  resur- 
rection, and  the  resurrection  is  not  to  take  place  until 
about  the  time  of  the  Last  Judgment,  it  would  seem  to 
need  no  further  proof  that,  as  our  Lord  said,  no  man  hath 
ascended  up  into  heaven  as  yet. 

And  yet  again,  we  are  established  in  such  a  belief  by 
considering  the  marvellous  influence  over  the  mind  by  the 
body,  and  the  intimate  connection  between  them.  We 
have  no  experience  of  a  disembodied  state,  and  therefore 
are  totally  without  any  conception  of  what  such  a  state 
may  be.  But  there  is  certainly  reason  to  suppose  that 
God  would  not  so  carefully  assure  us  of  the  immortal 
destiny  of  the  body — that  Christ  would  not  be  distinctly 
called  the  Saviour  of  the  body — that  the  reuniting  of  the 
soul  to  the  body  would  not  be  made  a  necessary  pre- 
liminary  to  entrance  upon  the  state  of  perfected  bliss — it 
is,  I  say,  reasonable  to  suppose  that  God  would  not  have 
assured  us  of  all  these  things  were  there  no  peculiar  fit- 
ness in  the  union  between  soul  and  body  to  enhance  our 
highest  interests.  And  if  so,  however  happy  may  be  the 
intermediate  and  disembodied  state  of  the  righteous,  how- 
ever fully  the  capacities  of  such  a  condition  may  be  satis- 
fied— still  in  the  words  of  the  text,  they  cannot  be  made 
perfect  without  us — they  have  still  in  anticipation  a  state 
of  being  into  which  they  are  not  to  enter  until  we, — all 
the  faithful  who  dwell  on  earth — shall  have  joined  them, 
and  until,  the  present  dispensation  over,  the  new  era  shall 
have  been  inaugurated  by  the  general  resurrection. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  this  view  has  no  con- 
nection with  the  unscriptural  doctrine  of  Purgatory.  Pur- 
gatory is  the  purging  or  cleansing  place.  According  to 
the  Romish  view,  the  wicked  who  are  hot  finally  to  enter 


ALL   SAINTS.  Ill 

heaven  do  not  go  to  Purgatory.     But  all  those  who  have, 
at  death,  any  remains  of  sin,  go  thither  to  be  purged  by 
further  suffering  of  those  remains  of  sin.     It  is,  then,  a 
continuation  of  pain,  though  not  of   probation ;    for  all 
those  who  enter  there  are  sure  of  ultimate  bliss,  though  it 
may  be  long  before  all  their  sinfulness  is  refined  away. 
There  may  be  comfort  in  the  thought  to  those  who  believe 
it, — there  may  be,  and  I  have  no  doubt  there  is,  a  pro- 
found satisfaction  to  pure  and  loving  hearts,  in  the  belief, 
which  of  course  is  closely  connected  with  it  (though  not 
with  our  Church's  doctrine  of   the   intermediate  state), 
that  by  prayers,  and  alms,  and  good  deeds,  they  may  shorten 
the  time  of  trial  to  which  their  dead  are  otherwise  des- 
tined.    I  can  see  all  the  beauty  and  attractiveness  of  such 
a  belief,  which  allows  room  for  the  intense  yearning  of  the 
bereaved  still  to  sacrifice  for  the  departed  the  life-blood 
that  was  so  willingly  poured  out  for  them  on  earth.     But 
it  is  to  be  observed  that  there  is  no  real  advantage  in  it 
beyond  that  of  our  own  scriptural  teaching,  as  regards 
any  greater  room  for  hope  concerning  the  departed.     It 
still  leaves  the  same  sharp  line  of  demarcation  between 
those  who  are  to  be  ultimately  saved  and  those  who  are 
finally  condemned.     Wherever  a  Komanist  has  ground  for 
hoping  that  the  fitful  manifestations  of  religious  feelj-ng 
on  earth  give  assurance  that  a  friend  has  been  admitted 
to  purgatory,  where  he  is  safe,  however  long  may  be  his 
purgation, — in  all  such  cases  we  have  precisely  the  same 
ground  of  hope  that  the  departed  soul  has  been  admitted 
to  a  state  where,  in  the  presence  of  God,  and  surrounded  by 
none  but  elevating  influences,  he  may  grow  into  the  meas- 
ure of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ.     And  the  ad- 
vantages being  the  same, — the  opportunities  for  exercising 


112  ALL  SAINTS. 

faith  and  hope  being  identical — both  leave,  as  they  must 
leave  forever  undetermined  in  this  life,  where  the  line  is 
drawn  which  divides  hope  from  despair, — both  are  com- 
pelled in  the  exercise  of  the  highest  spiritual  self-surrender, 
to  leave  the  determination  of  that  point  to  the  absolute 
justice  and  infinite  mercy  of  our  Father  in  heaven. 

As  American  churchmen,  then — as  men  who  find  in 
mere  vague  tradition  no  reasonable  ground  for  belief — we 
are  to  think  of  our  departed  only  as  we  are  warranted  by  the 
word  of  God.  They  are  not  in  heaven,  since  that  fulness 
of  perfected  bliss  is  reserved  until  we  shall  have  joined 
them,  and  can  enter  it  with  them.  They  are  happy  in  the 
presence  of  the  Lord,  having  the  same  spiritual  privileges 
as  we  on  earth  ;  only  that  they  are  adapted,  and  probably 
enlarged,  as  befits  their  freedom  from  temptation,  and 
their  confidence  in  an  assured  eternity  of  bliss.  If  their 
religious  life  on  earth  was  weak,  no  doubt  they  pass  into 
that  state  with  less  power  of  drinking  in  the  fulness  of  joy 
than  if  their  natures  had  taken  kindly  to  discipline  and 
trial  here.  The  dying  robber  just  opening  his  new-born 
eyes  to  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  can  hardly  be  supposed 
to  have  entered  at  once  upon  the  spiritual  glories  to  which 
he  was  so  suddenly  admitted,  with  the  same  powers  and 
capacities  as  those  which  St.  Paul  and  St.  John  carried 
with  them  to  Paradise.  But  all,  no  doubt,  according  to 
the  measure  of  the  gift  of  Ciirist, — new-born  children  and 
long-tried  heroes  of  the  faith, — experience  an  ever-increas- 
ing enlargement  of  their  faculties,  and  love,  believe,  and 
hope  more  and  more  perfectly  and  fully  until  the  last  day. 

Some  such  statement  of  the  Church's  reading  of  Bible- 
doctrine  was  needful,  partly  for  itself,  and,  because  all  do 
not   possess  it  in  its  wholeness,    partly  as  a  preparation 


ALL  SAINTS.  113 

for  understanding  fully  the  doctrine  of  the  Church's  being 
the  Communion  of  Saints.     In  such   a  condition  as,  we 
must  suppose  fro7n  the  declarations  of  the  Bible,  theirs  to 
be,  enjoying  the  presence  of  Christ,  how  can  we  help  be- 
lieving that  we  are  the  objects  of  their  thoughts — that  the 
course  of  the  world,  and  particularly  that  of  the  Church  is 
deeply   interesting   to  them?     Even   if  we  do   not    un- 
dertake to  decide  whether  they  are  permitted  themselves 
to  watch  the  ongoing  of  our  lives,  still  they  must  receive 
all  that  is  needful  for  being  fully  cognizant  of  our  fortunes 
from  the  never-ending  stream  of  messengers  whom  we  are 
sending  from  our  firesides  to  join  their  company.     All  that 
most  interested  them  here  must  take  on  a  new,  and  more 
vivid   attractiveness  when  their  eyes,  from  straining  to 
detect  the  traces  of  God's  ways  on  earth,  and  strengthened 
by  the  trial,  gaze  undimmed  upon   the  Lord  God  of  all 
the  heavenly  hosts.     The  growth  in  every  Christian  grace 
which   seems   inseparable   from   such  a   condition,   must 
surely  invest  all  pure,  earthly  affections  with  fresh  strength. 
They  must  long  and  pray  for  the  speedy  accomplishment 
of  God's  purposes  in  general,  and  in  particular  for  the  per- 
fecting  of  all  whom   they  have   left  behind.     That    we 
should  pray  for  them,  is  not  only  unauthorized  by  our 
Church,  but  apparently  superfluous  :  that  we  should  pray 
to  them  is  to  forget  that  we  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
they  can  hear  our  prayers.     But  that  there  is  among  them 
real  communion  in  spirit  with  ourselves,  the  same  spiritual 
nourishment  and  support  vouchsafed  to  both  parts  of  the 
Church,  the  militant  and  triumphant — the  keenest  interest 
with  them,  in  both  the  general  and  particular  providence 
of  God,  as  far  as  knowledge  is  communicated  to  them 
either  by  God,  or  by  those  who  are  perpetually  added  to 


114  ALL   SAINTS. 

their  number  from  earth  ;— of  this  I  cannot  doubt  without 
supposing  them  to  be  in  a  state  of  unconsciousness  quite 
impossible  to  reconcile  with  what  we  are  told ;  and  I  no 
more  doubt  it  than  I  doubt  of  the  communion  existing 
between  the  Church  in  England  and  the  Church  in 
America. 

But  communion  is  between  two.  Allowing  that  some 
such  knowledge  of  and  interest  in  us  exists  among  the 
saints  in  Paradise,  real  communion  demands  that  we  too, 
should  feel  deeply  and  constantly  that  the  tie  uniting  us 
to  them  is  reaL  And  I  think  it  can  hardly  be  gainsaid 
that  when  the  mother  Church  in  England  rejected  the 
doctrine  of  Purgatory,  and  the  practice  of  Invocation  of 
Saints,  many  of  her  children,  forgetful  of  the  wise  caution 
with  which  she  preserved  the  truth,  while  casting  aside  the 
perversion  of  it,  came  to  feel  an  unreasonable  aversion  to 
the  very  mention  of  saints,  as  though  their  memory  could 
not  be  cherished,  nor  their  communion  with  ourselves 
maintained,  without  falling  into  the  practices  and  the  be- 
liefs of  the  Church  of  Rome.  If  such  practices  and  beliefs 
were  necessarily  connected  with  the  doctrine  set  forth  by 
our  Church,  that  would  be  the  most  convincing  proof  that 
we  ought  never  to  have  condemned  them.  For  this  doc- 
trine may,  in  the  words  of  the  Article,  be  read  in  Holy 
Scripture  and  proved  thereby ;  and  whatever  necessarily 
follows  from  the  true  doctrine  must  itself  be  true.  But 
the  true  belief  and  the  innocent  practice  may  be  held  by 
individuals,  and  taught  by  the  Prayer  Book,  without  such 
consequences.  And  we  deliberately  forego  much  that  will 
tend  to  the  sweetening  and  enlarging  of  our  religious  lives* 
if  we  permit  this  great  truth  to  remain  without  its  proper 
influence. 


ALL   SAINTS.  115 

Who  does  not  see  and  rejoice  over  the  quickening  of  the 
interest  felt  by  our  own  communion  in  the  old  Catholics, 
and  the  Holy  Eastern  Church  ?  In  both  cases  there  may  be 
differences  which  only  time  can  wholly  remove  :  such  in  the 
latter  case  certainly  exist.  But  the  longing  desire  that  the 
unity  of  the  Spirit  should  take  outward  shape  is  beyond 
question  a  feeling  directly  inspired  by  a  larger,  more 
vigorous  Christian  life.  And,  if  we  may  anticipate  the 
time  when  it  shall  have  been  realized, — if  we  may  joyfully 
look  forward  to  a  period,  however  remote,  when  the  mis- 
understandings of  the  past  shall  have  been  removed — when 
additions  to  the  faith  shall  have  been  pruned  away — when 
all  branches  of  the  Church  shall  be  united  in  deed  and  in 
truth,  and  the  whole  of  Christ's  dispersed  sheep  shall  have 
been  gathered  into  the  one  fold — why  shall  we  not  now, 
try  to  realize  more  habiiually  the  sublime  truth  that  a 
host  of  saints  infinitely  outnumbering  all  who  now  believe 
on  earth,  are  one  with  us  in  feeling,  in  thought,  in  aspira- 
tion, as  they  tread  the  happy  walks  of  Paradise  ?  There 
is  nothing  to  hinder  it  but  our  undue  absorption  in  the 
present  and  the  visible.  The  great  French  statesman  who 
died  not  long  ago,  left  in  his  last  will  the  solemn  record  of 
his  conviction,  that  in  the  eternal  light  which  he  was 
about  to  enter  many  of  the  discussions  which  distract  us 
here  would  appear  to  have  arisen  from  our  incapacity  fully 
to  take  in  the  proportions  of  divine  truth.  No  doubt 
they  will,  and  no  doubt  our  perfect  union  with  other 
branches  of  the  Church  militant  may  long  be  delayed. 
But  our  union  with  the  Church  triumphant  no  man  can 
hinder.  That  is  beyond  peradventure.  Only  strive  to  take 
it  in, — only  try  to  picture  to  yourself  that  multitude  that  no 
man  can  number,  chanting  ceaselessly  the  song  which  we 


116  ALL  SAINTS. 

on  earth  are  singing — strain  your  ear  to  catch  the  music  of 
that  resounding  symphony — and  the  true  Church  will 
swell  to  proportions  more  majestic  and  inspiring — your 
Christian  life  will  recognize  the  proper  sweep  of  its  sym- 
pathies— the  hallowed  feast  in  which  we  are  about  to  join 
will  become,  more  particularly  on  this  festival  of  All 
Saints,  the  suhlimest,  as  well  as  the  deepest  expression  of 
the  truth  that  the  Holy  Catholic  Church  is  the  Communion 
of  Saints,  no  less  with  each  other  than  with  their  ascended 
Master. 


ST.  MATTHEW. 

THE  VALUE  OP  THE  OBSERVANCE  OF  SAINTS*  DAYS. 

The  celebration  of  the  Saints'  days  is  a  feature  of  the 
Church's  system  which  is  gradually  attracting  more  at- 
tention than  formerly,  but  about  which  a  good  deal  remains 
to  be  said.  One  need  not  be  very  old  to  recall  the  time 
when  this,  and  many  other  practices  which  are  distinctly 
enjoined  in  the  Prayer  Book,  were  by  almost  universal 
consent  ignored.  In  some  dioceses  and  parishes,  the 
observance  of  them  is  still  held,  apparently,  to  be  out  of 
keeping  with  true  Evangelical  principles.  The  observance, 
by  public  worship  at  least,  of  the  Ember  seasons,  the  use 
of  the  prayers  for  those  about  to  be  ordained,  holding 
ordinations  at  those  times  when  they  are  specially  ordered 
by  our  Canon,  i.  e.,  immediately  after  the  Ember  weeks, 
the  keeping  of  Saints'  days, — these,  or  most  of  these,  are 
matters  which,  in  this  country  at  least,  have  become  general 
only  within  the  memory  of  persons  still  in  middle  life.  But 
although  such  Churchly  observances  are  not,  at  the  present 
day,  likely  to  attract  much  thought  from  their  novelty, 
the  number  of  persons  who  give  much  attention  to  them 
is  still  very  inconsiderable.  Many  who  would  be  much 
annoyed  at  the  thought  of  having  public  service  given  up 
on  days  appointed  for  it — who  would,  and  rightly,  consider 
the  Church  system  neglected  by  such  an  omission, — are 
still  by  no  means  inclined  themselves,  to  pay  any  tribute 

117 


118  ST.    MATTHEW. 

of  personal  respect  to  these  same  matters.  Such  being 
the  case,  one  wonders  how  deep  is  the  reverence  for  the 
Church  on  the  part  of  persons  of  this  class.  The  thing  is 
a  little  strange,  (is  it  not  ?)  that  what  is  ostensibly  held  so 
important  for  a  clergyman  to  attend  to,  should  be  left  so 
largely  in  his  hands  alone.  It  might  be  thought  that 
when  the  Church  is  opened  for  morning  prayers,  on  days 
specially  apppointed  for  them,  on  days  which  have  been 
observed  for  many  centuries  by  all  branches  of  the  Catholic 
Church  as  commemorating  the  Saints  of  old,  our  forerun- 
ners in  the  faith,  more  than  a  handful  of  worshippers 
would  assemble  in  a  parish  where  Church  principles  are 
held  important,  and  where  there  is  a  considerable  number 
of  persons  who  are  not  too  closely  occupied  to  spare  half 
an  hour  for  showing  their  principles  to  be  based  on  con- 
viction. 

Let  us  view  this  matter  somewhat  carefully,  and  see 
whether  the  Church  has  not  displayed  in  this  particular, 
that  same  wisdom  which  has  characterized  her  in  other 
matters. 

In  the  great  struggle  for  good  against  evil,  various 
methods  have  been  tried  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  home 
to  men  the  great  truths  of  morality  and  religion.  One 
system,  which  seems  never  to  lose  its  charm  for  a  certain 
class  of  minds,  is  that  of  putting  these  truths  into  proverbs 
and  maxims, — a  shape  so  compact  and  portable  that  the 
mind  may  easily  be  stored  with  a  large  provision  of  rules 
ready  to  be  applied  in  time  of  need.  On  all  planes  of  moral 
and  religious  truth  this  system  has  been  applied.  You 
have  on  the  lowest  plane,  maxims  of  the  worldly  and  sel- 
fish kind,  which  are  calculated  to  keep  one  on  the  broad 
highway  of  honesty,  thrift  and  economy.      In  a  higher 


ST.    MATTHEW.  119 

sphere  you  may  find  in  abundance  short,  wise  sayings  of 
great  thinkers,  which  contain  the  quintessence  of  long  and 
patient  thought  apphed  to  the  loftiest  subjects  of  human 
reflection.  The  Bible  contains  a  book  which  shows  that 
the  divine  mind  has  not  omitted  this  in  its  multiform 
provisions  for  the  needs  of  man,  and  whatever  may  be 
done  in  the  way  of  condensing  for  practical  purposes  the 
lessons  God  would  teach  us,  may  be  found,  in  that  wise  and 
witty  collection  of  old  Hebrew  maxims,  with  its  introduc- 
tion of  sublime  and  generous  eloquence,  that  robs  the 
proverbs  of  all  the  mere  worldliness  that  might  otherwise 
be  imputed  to  them,  and  shows  the  temper  of  religious 
reverence  in  which  they  are  to  be  carried  into  effect  in 
every-day  life. 

Another  method  of  elevating  men,  and  inducing  them 
to  lead  a  purer  life,  is  to  be  found  in  the  great  systems  of 
philosophy  and  morals  which  have  been  constructed  in  all 
ages,  and  in  such  profusion  that  our  only  difficulty  is  to 
choose  among  them.  Here  the  claim  is  a  little  more  sub- 
stantial than  when  mere  maxims  are  credited  with  much 
influence  over  the  human  mind.  A  somewhat  more  accurate 
view  of  our  real  needs  prompts  this  attempt.  For  here 
the  endeavor  is  made  by  giving  something  like  a  consistent 
general  view  of  the  moral  universe,  to  supply  what  the 
better  kind  of  men  crave  as  the  basis  of  their  action. 
They  never  can  be  greatly  influenced  by  mere  proverbs, 
throwing  at  best  only  gleams  as  from  a  dark-lantern, 
upon  this  or  that  particular  deed,  or  doubt,  or  desire. 
They  may,  perhaps,  be  roused  to  strive  after  a  higher  life, 
by  having  placed  before  them  a  system  which  will  show 
them  what  are  the  objects  after  which  they  should  strive — 
what  are  the  means  of  giving  efficacy  to  their  strivings — 


120  ST.    MATTHEW. 

what  the  support,  and  what  the  incentive  to  sustain  and 
inspirit  them,  when  novelty  is  gone  and  the  weariness  and 
unprofitableness  of  human  life  weigh  them  down.  This  is 
what  alone  has  reaped  any  measure  of  success  among  the 
numerous  efforts  of  philosophers  and  philanthropists.  Men 
must  have  some  explanation,  true  or  false,  of  the  source 
and  object  of  human  existence,  of  its  solemn  facts  of  woe 
and  wrong,  to  uphold  them  in  any  continuous  efforts  to 
lead  a  life  higher  than  that  of  the  mere  seeker  after 
pleasure,  and  shield  them  from  the  temptation  which 
presents  itself  so  often  to  us  all,  to  say,  in  -one  shape  or 
another,  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink  for  to-morrow  we  die." 

And  yet  here  also  a  mistake  lies  at  the  root.  Frame  your 
system  of  philosophy,  or  of  morals,  v/ith  all  the  skill  of 
which  you  are  master — infuse  into  it  all  the  warmth  and 
enthusiasm  of  which  it  is  capable — present  it  with  what- 
ever zeal  you  may — show  as  clearly  as  possible  that  it  ex- 
plains the  problems  of  life ; — and  still  you  have  done  but 
little  to  ensure  it  any  measure  of  success.  For  the  stu- 
dent in  his  library,  it  may  be  perfectly  consistent  with 
itself,  and  with  the  world  for  which  it  proposes  a  solution. 
But  its  power  stops  short  when  it  passes  from  the  study, 
the  abode  of  thought  and  meditation,  into  the  world  of 
action  and  temptation.  It  has  little  ability  to  make  men 
hear  the  voice  which  spoke  there  so  clearly  and  persua- 
sively, when  they  are  beset  behind  and  before  by  the  cove- 
tous desires  and  inordinate  love  of  riches  of  which  we  hear 
in  the  collect  for  St.  Matthew's  day.  And  more  than 
this.  The  proportion  of  mankind  with  whom  even  the 
idea  of  acting  in  accordance  with  it  can  find  an  entrance 
is  exceedingly  small.  Those  who  have  a  natural  turn  for 
thought  and  investigation  may  find  time  to  study  and  be 


ST.   MATTHEW.  121 

convinced.  But  for  that  immense  portion  of  our  race  who 
have  neither  the  time  nor  the  capacity  for  reflecting  over 
any  such  system, — who  would  not  shape  in  words  the 
difficulties,  nor  the  cravings  of  which  they  are,  neverthe- 
less, deeply  conscious, — for  them,  any  explanation,  or  any 
scheme  of  life  of  this  kind  is  absolutely  ineffectual,  even  to 
command  their  assent. 

The  only  way  of  really  influencing  men  at  large  is  by 
example.     It  is  a  power  which  we  see  and  feel  at  work 
every  day — every  hour  of  our  lives.     It  is  always  at  work, 
always  busy,  even  when  we  are  not  conscious  of  what  is 
going  on.     How  good  it  is  in  circumstances  which  give  it 
a  beneficent  turn,  we  see  in  what  looks  like  the  magic  of 
every  wise   and  good  family   circle,  community,   nation . 
How  destruotive  it  may  be,  appears  from  the  almost  hope  - 
less  character  of  the  attempt  to  do  good  to  one  who  is  sur- 
rounded  by  crime  during   the  years   of  childhood   and 
youth.     Who  of  us  do  not  know  the  subtle  way  in  which 
it  works  when  we  get  away  from  the  ordinary   constraints 
of  home  among  those  whom  we  see  throwing  off  the  bur- 
den  of  duty  and  self-respect?     How  it  steals    into  the 
mind,  persuasively  suggesting  the  harmlessness  and  plea- 
sure of  going  and  doing  likewise!     We  say  ^'No,"  and 
think  we  are  very  firm  in  our  hold  upon  our   common 
rules.     But  unless  we  are  on  our  guard  most  jealously 
we  find  ourselves  curiously  advancing  a  little  nearer,  only 
to  examine  for  ourselves,  of  course,  and  then,  suddenly, 
overpowered. 

This  power  of  example  is  one  of  which   Christianity 

makes  the  largest  use ;  and  it  is,  of  all  the  principles   of 

human  nature,  that  which  is  most  wisely  and  effectually 

employed.     Many  of  the  most  striking  of  the  words  of 

6 


122  ST.    MATTHEW. 

Christ  are  only  in  another  form  what  had  been  said  be- 
fore Him.  He  based  His  teaching  largely  on  the  previous 
revelation.  The  duty  of  loving  our  neighbor  as  ourself, 
He  advanced,  not  as  a  truth  hitherto  unknown,  but  as 
summing  up  and  underlying  the  Law  and  the  Prophets  ; 
while  loving  the  Lord  our  God,  with  all  our  heart,  and 
mind,  and  soul,  and  strength,  was  continually  advanced  in 
the  Scriptures  of  the  older  dispensation.  What  was  en- 
tirely new  was  the  personal  power  with  which  He  clothed 
those  grand  and  simple  truths.  The  Pharisees  had  at 
their  finger's  end  all  the  minutest  prescriptions  of  the 
Law,  and  had  developed  them  into  a  system  of  wonderful 
complexity  which  regulated  every  duty  of  a  Hebrew's  life, 
and  which  hemmed  him  in  from  his  waking  in  the  morn- 
ing until  he  went  to  sleep  at  night.  And  yet,  according 
to  Josephus,  there  never  was  a  nation,  as  a  nation,  more 
completely  given  over  to  wickedness  of  every]  kind  than 
this  people,  so  abundantly  supplied  with  moral  precepts, 
and  so  instructed  in  the  rigorous  application  of  them  to 
the  least  details  of  life. 

What  was  needed  was  the  power  of  example,  to  infuse 
into  men  a  new  spirit,  a  spirit  which  could  dispense  with 
all  this  cumbrous  machinery  and,  laying  hold  of  the  great 
principles,  proceed  to  apply  them  in  the  calm  power  of 
personal  conviction  and  loving  imitation.  This  Christ 
gave.  While  He  does  not  avoid  instruction — nay,  while 
He  is  perpetually  busied  in  giving  it,  it  is  the  Son  of  Man 
who  is  made  the  centre  of  all.  The  foundation  of  the  Ser- 
mon on  the  Mount,  that  without  which  it  would  have 
been  as  powerless  to  raise  men  as  the  many  kindred  ut- 
terances to  which  thought  and  love  had  led  men  before, 
was  the  command  which  takes  shape  on  another  occasion  : 


ST.    MATTHEW.  123 

"  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  of  me ;  for  I  am 
meek  and  lowly  of  heart ;  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your 
souls.     For  My  yoke  is  easy  and  My  burden  is  light." 

It  is  this  peculiarity  of  our  Lord's  teaching  which 
shapes,  indeed  which  makes,  our  Christian  year.  Too 
deeply  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  Christ's  teaching  to  fore- 
go an  advantage  so  priceless — knowing  that  when  Christi- 
anity becomes  a  mere  system  of  doctrines  the  life  is  gone 
out  of  it — aware  of  the  tendency  of  the  human  mind  to- 
wards reducing  moral  and  religious  truths  to  mere  for- 
mulae— she  brings  back  to  our  minds  with  unwearying 
patience  the  great  outward  facts  in  which  truth  has  found 
its  most  eloquent  expression.  She  is  not  content  to  leave 
her  children,  rich  and  poor,  learned  and  unlearned,  those 
who  can  think  and  those  who  have  never  been  taught  to 
think,  indiscriminately,  to  the  chances  of  remembering  or 
forgetting  the  events  of  Christ's  life.  Their  religious 
instructor  may,  if  he  be  so  forgetful  of  his  ordination  vow, 
preach  only  cold  morality,  or  fanaticism,  or  dark,  abstruse 
doctrines  of  predestination,  or  intoxicating  dreams  of  mys- 
ticism. Not  so  the  common  Mother.  To  all  her  children, 
because  all  must  have  it  or  die,  she  sets  forth  in  order  the 
pure  teaching  of  the  Gospel.  Nor  is  she  content  even  with 
reciting  to  the  ear  in  the  daily  lessons,  the  story  of  the 
Saviour's  life,  or  the  words  of  Him  who  spake  as  never 
man  spake.  To  the  imagination,  that  mightiest  lever  of 
the  moral  world,  she  addresses  the  silent  utterances  of 
her  wisely  ordered  seasons.  By  festival  and  fast,  by  sea- 
sons of  mourning  and  seasons  of  rejoicing,  she  drives  home 
the  lessons  taught  by  the  various  events  of  the  spotless 
life  of  her  Master,  by  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and 
by  the  manifestation  ever  and  anon  of  the  three  Persons 


124  ST.    MATTHEW. 

of  the  blessed  Trinity.  By  this  perpetual  reminder  of  the 
events  of  His  earthly  life  she  combats  the  tendency  to  lose 
sight  of  the  historical  Man,  Christ  Jesus.  She  puts  it  be- 
yond the  power  of  any  teacher  to  deprive  his  flock  of  what 
is  needful  for  their  spiritual  sustenance.  In  spite  of  him- 
self he  must  preach  Jesus  Christ  and  Him  crucified. 

But  there  is  another  set  of  influences,  which  although  of 
inferior  importance,  is  full  of  value.  Had  Christ's  life 
passed  as  unsuccessfully  during  after  time,  as  to  human 
eyes  at  least,  it  did  during  His  actual  ministry,  it  would  be 
hard  for  any  one  to  begin  now  the  imitation  of  it.  We 
need  to  be  reminded  of  the  breadth  of  meaning  in  those 
words  of  the  creed  which  teach  us  that  the  Holy  Catholic 
Church  is  the  communion  of  Saints.  We  are  not  to  be 
deprived  of  the  comfort  and  encouragement  that  flow  from 
the  knowledge  that,  however  fruitless  for  the  time,  were 
His  words.  His  love  and  His  example.  His  followers  awoke 
when  He  was  ascended  into  Heaven,  to  all  that  He  had  been 
to  them,  and  found  in  that  invisible  fellowship  which  ia 
ours  as  much  as  theirs,  the  courage  to  build  up  and  conse- 
crate with  their  blood,  the  Church  that  He  had  founded. 
Nor  among  those  alone  who  enjoyed  His  earthly  compan- 
ionship, but  among  all  Saints  of  all  ages,  yea  among  all 
Angels,  have  we  a  right  to  mingle  in  spiritual  communion* 
for  the  rousing  of  our  drooping  souls  and  the  quickening  of 
our  hopes.  But  if  so,  how  is  it  to  be  taught  ?  By  leaving 
every  man  to  his  own  devices  here  ? — by  trusting  that  the 
power  of  such  influences  will  be  sufficiently  valued  to  dis- 
pense with  reminders,  when  even  our  Master's  example 
needs  to  be  perpetually  brought  before  us  by  fast  and  festi- 
val ?  Such  a  course  would  be  strangely  inconsistent- 
Therefore  we  have,  applied  to  the  object  of  keeping  alive 


ST.    MATTHEW.  125 

this  class  of  influences,  the  same  means  wbicli  every 
Churchman  finds  by  experience  to  be  full  of  profit  in  pre- 
serving fresh  the  memory  of  the  Saviour's  life :  therefore 
we  have,  scattered  throughout  the  year,  such  festivals  as 
that  for  whose  celebration  we  are  met  to-day. 

St.  Matthew !  you  say,  What  profit  is  there  for  me  in 
specially  commemorating  the  life  of  St.  Matthew?  As 
the  author  of  the  first  Gospel,  as  a  godly  and  inspired  man, 
certainly  worthy  of  respect — certainly  worthy  to  be  made 
the  subject  of  thankfulness  to  God.  But  as  the  traditional 
Evangelist  of  Ethiopia,  Media,  or  Persia,  the  figure  is  too 
vague  and  shadowy  to  invest  with  much  personal  interest, 
Of  St.  Paul  and  St.  John  I  know  something.  To  their 
memories  I  am  ready  to  devote  a  tribute  of  reverence ! 
But  St.  Matthew  does  not  stand  to  my  mind  as  the  sym- 
bol of  any  thing  in  particular ;  and  I  do  not  see  the 
advantage  of  keeping  a  festival  or  going  to  church  in  his 
honor. 

Read  the  Gospel  for  St.  Matthew's  day,  I  answer,  and 
you  will  see  abundant  reason  why  he  should  stand  to  your 
mind  as  the  symbol  of  something  in  particular.  "  And  as 
Jesus  passed  forth  .  .  He  saw  a  man  named  Mat- 
thew sitting  at  the  receipt  of  customs  :  and  He  saith  unto 
him,  'Follow  me.'  And  he  arose  and  followed  Him." 
What  a  picture  is  that !  The  despised  and  degraded  tax- 
gatherer,  excluded  from  the  company  of  decent  society  by 
the  odium  gathering  round  his  detested  calling,  and  con- 
sorting with  publicans  and  sinners,  hears  the  kind  voice 
that  whispers  to  his  mind  of  purity  and  a  better  life,  and 
in  simple  devotion  and  gratitude  abandons  thenceforward 
his  gainful  calling  to  become  the  sharer  of  Christ's  wander- 
ing, toilsome,  thankless  life.     That  a  shadowy  ghost,  lack- 


126  ST.    MATTHEW. 

ing  the  distinctness  necessary  to  call  it  up  before  the  mind  ! 
Thai  a  memory  which  the  Church  of  God  can  afford  to  lose 
from  her  roll  of  saintly  heroes  !  That  an  example  with  no 
value  for  you  in  an  age  like  this,  when  the  wisest  and  the 
purest  find  it  hard  to  resist  the  covetous  desires  and  in- 
ordinate love  of  riches  which  choke  the  word  so  often  and 
render  it  unfruitful !  Why,  if  there  be  one  lesson  more 
than  another  which  is  needful  for  our  day  it  is  this — that 
we  must  struggle  against  the  love  of  ease  and  wealth,  if  we 
would  keep  ourselves  pure,  and  live  the  higher  life  to 
which  Christ  calls  us.  Everywhere  the  temptation 
creeps  in.  The  poorest  are  infected  by  the  poison  of  souL 
and  sacrifice  personal  self-respect  and  decency  to  flaunt 
their  absurd  finery  in  the  House  of  God,  while  they  pinch 
themselves  of  necessaries,  and  run  in  debt  to  purchase 
them.  It  is  this  disposition  to  worship  only  money,  and 
what  money  buys,  that  brings  about  the  envy  and  jealousy 
of  class  against  class,  so  accursed  and  unchristian  when 
they  exist.  It  is  this  inordinate  love  of  riches  that  makes 
men  begin  to  toil  for  them  as  boys,  before  they  have  got- 
ten any  thing  which  can  be  called  an  education ;  and  so 
robs  their  whole  life  of  the  refining  and  ennobling  influence 
of  books.  It  is  this  that  is  suffered  to  drain  the  body  of 
health,  and  the  soul  of  its  best  powers,  and  so  often  ends 
before  middle  life  is  reached,  by  using  up  brain  and  nerves, 
and  leaving  the  man  a  peevish,  useless  invalid,  with  no 
higher  aim  than  sensual  enjoyment,  and  not  health  enough 
to  allow  him  that.  Need  I  follow  the  subject  further  into 
society,  and  its  harmful  influence  there  in  making  the 
young  of  both  sexes  marry  for  wealth  and  position  only,  in 
sending  them  to  live  in  hotels,  instead  of  having  homes  of 
their  own  when  they  do  marry  ; — into  political  life,  and  its 


ST.    MATTHEW.  127 

power  there  to  make  unworthy  men  or  rulers,  and  to  en- 
gross us  so  completely  with  our  private  money-getting  that 
we  cannot  spare  time  to  oust  the  thieves,  and  put,  and  keep 
honest  men  in  office  ?  To  one  who  looks  at  the  facts  there 
seems  only  too  much  melancholy  truth  in  the  Apostle's 
words,  ^'  The  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil." 

If  there  be  any  truth  then,  in  what  I  have  said,  I  need 
hardly  urge,  that  to  celebrate  in  its  true  spirit  the  festival 
of  St.  Matthew,  is  a  most  timely  protest  against  the  per- 
petual festival  of  Mammon  which  we  celebrate  with  such 
devotion.  This  day  which  brings  forcibly  to  our  hearts 
the  truth  that  there  are  higher  things  in  life  than  a  good 
income,  which  tells  us  that  a  man  has  been  upon  earth 
who  could  deliberately  abandon  wealth  and  its  pursuit 
when  a  better  thing  was  put  before  him,  who  was  clear  - 
sighted  enough  to  prize  peace  and  love  and  gratitude  to 
Christ  above  money,  and  pure-hearted  enough  to  abide  by 
such  a  decision — what  a  day  ought  it  to  be  to  all  of  us, 
whether  poor  or  rich  who  keep  it ! 

And  remember  that  there  are  more  ways  than  one  of 
keeping  it.  Regarding  the  Holy  Communion  itself  the 
Church  teaches  us,  in  the  rubric  after  the  Office  for  the 
Communion  of  the  sick  that  "if  a  man  by  reason  of 
extremity  of  sickness,  .  .  .  or  by  any  other  just  im- 
pediment, do  not  receive  the  Sacrament  of  Christ's  Body 
and  Blood,  the  Minister  shall  instruct  him  that  if  he  do 
truly  repent  him  of  his  sins,  and  steadfastly  believe  that 
Jesus  Christ  hath  suffered  death  upon  the  Cross  for  Him, 
and  shed  His  Blood  for  his  redemption,  earnestly  remem- 
bering the  benefits  he  hath  thereby,  and  giving  Him  hearty 
thanks  therefore,  he  doth  eat  and  drink  the  Body  and 
Blood  of  our  Saviour  Christ  profitably  and  to  his  soul's 
health,  although  he  do  not  receive  the  Sacrament  with  his 


128  ST.   MATTHEW. 

mouth."   This  teachiDg,  throwing  so  strong  a  light  as  it 
does  upon  the  Church's  spiritual  view  of  the  Holy  Com- 
munion, is  worthy  of  constant  remembrance  just   now. 
But  a  similar  view  is  applicable  to  the  matter  in  hand.    It 
would  be  foolish  and  unreasonable  to  demand  or  expect  all 
to  abandon  the  busiest  part  of  the  day,  to  give  up  what 
would   be,  in  many   cases,  the   whole  of  it,  as  a  work- 
man or  employe  must  do,  to  attend    public  worship.     I 
neither  expect  it,  nor  desire  it  of  all.     It  is  for  every  man 
to  ask  himself  whether  the  impediment  which  keeps  him 
from  Church  is  a  just  one,  though  I  am  sure  that  if  aU 
came  who  were  not  justly  and  really  hindered,  the  Church 
would  be  well  attended.     But  if  you  cannot  come  here, 
that  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not  take  time  to  read  the 
service  appropriate  to   the  day,  to  offer  up  its  beautiful 
collect,  and  above  all,  earnestly  strive  from  morning  till 
night  to   keep   in  your   mind,  and  act   upon,  the   lesson 
taught  by  it,  and  so  terribly  needed  by  us  all.     It  will 
keep  you  from  being  wholly  absorbed  in  business.    If  you 
lose,  it  will  help  you  to  bear  loss,  by  its  teaching  of  the 
higher  value  of  self-control  and  submission.     It  will  en- 
courage you  to  struggle  against  the  spirit  that  grovels  in 
the  love  of  lucre,  and  overcome  it.   It  will  raise  you  above 
the  present,  with  its  tumult  and  passion,  and  bring  before 
you,  from  the  distant  past,  in  its  serene  and  majestic  com- 
pleteness, the  rounded  life  of  a  man  who  actually  has  trod 
the  earth,  who  actually  overcame  your  temptations,  and 
who  now  rests  from  earthly  trial  among  the  saints  in 
Paradise.     You  may  be  justly  hindered  from  praying  in  a 
Church  of  human  building,  but  if  so,  in  the  sanctuary  of 
a  chaste  breast  and  quiet  mind,  you  may  keep  as  truly 
and  as  profitably,  the  good  old  festival  of  St.  Matthew. 
Take  home  then  the  spirit  of  the  day. 


XI. 

THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM. 

HOW  CAN  I  WORK  ? 

"  The  centurion  answered  and  said :  Lord,  I  am  not  worthy  that  thou 
shouldest  come  under  my  roof ;  but  speak  the  word  only  and  my  ser- 
vant shall  be  healed." — St.  Matte,  viii.  8. 

The  centurion  at  Capernaum  is  a  remarkable  figure 
among  the  characters  brought  before  us  in  the  Gospels. 
From  the  accounts  given  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew, 
and  in  that  of  St.  Luke,  we  piece  together  a  conception  of 
the  man  something  like  this.  He  was  a  Koman  officer  who 
had  been  long  enough  stationed  in  Palestine  to  have  had 
his  attention  attracted  by  the  religion  of  the  Jews.  Even 
in  that  out-of-the-way  station  on  the  shores  of  the  sea  of 
Tiberias,  among  a  population  too  poor  to  build  a  synagogue 
for  themselves,  mainly  composed  of  fishermen,  and  probably 
little  calculated  to  make  a  Koman  soldier  lay  aside  that 
contempt  with  which  the  Jews  were  commonly  regarded 
by  their  conquerors,  he  had  had  the  spiritual  insight  and 
liberality  of  mind  to  see  how  vastly  superior  were  the 
principles  of  their  religion  to  any  thing  he  had  met  with 
elsewhere.  Contrasting  their  creed,  and  the  evidence  of 
a  written  revelation  on  which  it  was  based,  with  the  cruel, 
or  superstitious,  or  revolting  religions  of  pagandom,  he 
had  seen  the  imposing  majesty  of  their  belief  in  one  God, 
the  Creator  and  the  Father  of  the  world.     Nor  had  he 

6*  129 


130        THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM. 

pursued  the  investigation  of  the  subject  merely  as  one  of 
curious  interest.  He  bad  probably  connected  himself,  as 
a  proselyte  of  the  gate,  with  the  Jewish  congregation  in 
the  village.  This  appears  likely  from  the  report  given  by 
the  elders  of  the  Jews  in  St.  Luke's  version  of  the  story : 
''  He  loveth  our  nation  and  hath  built  us  our  synagogue  " 
(for  the  original  implies  that  this  was  the  only  place  of 
worship  they  had). 

Now,  for  a  Eoman  soldier  to  act  in  this  way  shows  very 
remarkable  qualities — qualities  that  prepare  us  for  the 
commendation  bestowed  by  our  Saviour  on  his  unexampled 
faith.  The  Eomans  generally  looked  upon  religions  other 
than  their  own  with  contemptuous  indifference.  In  their 
view  religion  was  important  mainly  as  connected  with  the 
state,  and  with  the  duties  men  owed  to  the  state.  Hence  the 
endeavor  on  the  part  of  the  Eoman  rulers  to  keep  up  the 
outward  observances  of  their  religion  after  they  had  entirely 
ceased  to  believe  in  it  themselves.  Hence  the  frantic 
efforts  made  by  the  best  of  their  emperors  to  restore  it 
when  it  had  well-nigh  died  out,  thinking  that  external 
observance  of  its  forms  would  satisfy  the  gods,  and  impart 
new  vigor  to  their  rapidly  decaying  institutions.  But  here 
was  a  man  who  not  only  was  ready  to  believe  that  other 
religions  might  have  deep  meaning  for  a  soldier  of  the 
mighty  empire,  but  actually  had  trained  himself  into  a 
complete  and  unquestioning  faith  in  the  most  despised  of 
all  religions,  that  of  the  hated  Jews. 

The  circumstances  of  his  life,  too,  must  not  be  left  out 
of  the  account.  Ordinarily,  as  we  know,  the  profession  of 
arms  does  not  help  to  make  men  religious.  Even  the 
constant  risk  of  death  to  which  soldiers  are  exposed,  in- 
stead of  increasing  the  activity  of  conscience,  and  keeping 


THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM.        131 

before  the  mind  the  interests  of  eternity  on  whose  brink 
they  are  continually  standing,  has,  in  general,  the  effect  of 
hardening  the  moral  sense,  and  banishing  serious  thoughts. 
Such  a  life  as  that  which  lay  before  the  centurion,  is  per- 
haps, even  more  unfavorable  to  religion  than  actual  warfare. 
The  absence  of  occupation  generally  inclines  men  in  camp 
or  garrison  life  to  kill  time  by  vicious  amusements ;  and 
their  associates  are  rarely  such  as  to  stimulate  them  to 
any  higher  occupations.  The  centurion,  however,  appears 
to  have  resisted  and  overcome  such  temptations  as  his  pro- 
fession exposed  him  to.  He  had  thoughtfully  studied  the 
religion  of  the  inhabitants,  had  actively  employed  himself 
for  their  improvement,  and  had  given  largely  to  provide 
them  the  opportunity  of  public  worship  which  they  were 
too  poor  to  provide  for  themselves.  Certainly,  under  the 
circumstances,  a  most  noteworthy  person.  No  wonder 
that  when  his  request  was  made  known  to  Christ  He  should 
have  marvelled,  and  said  that  He  had  not  found  so  great 
faith,  no,  not  in  Israel.  For  the  centurion  does  not  appear 
to  have  drunk  in  the  prejudices  of  his  new  religion,  but 
only  its  good,  and  to  have  been  led  by  what  he  had  learned 
of  its  promises  much  further  than  his  teachers.  "Whether 
he  fully  believed,  at  this  time,  in  Christ  as  the  Messiah 
we  cannot  tell ;  but  he  seems,  at  all  events,  to  have  be- 
lieved frankly  and  undoubtingly  that  Jesus  was  the  mes- 
senger of  God,  and  able  to  perform  miracles  such  as  only 
the  highest  prophets  of  Israel  had  ever  wrought.  The 
sense  of  Christ's  dignity  was  high  enough  to  make  him 
feel  that  his  house  was  unworthy  of  being  honored  by  the 
Saviour's  presence,  and  we  are  induced  to  suppose  that  as 
he  certainly  had  heard  of  Christ's  claims  he  must  have 
fully  accepted  them  as  well-founded. 


132  THE   CENTURION   AT  CAPERNAUM. 

I  have  dwelt  at  such  length  upon  this  man,  who  after 
once  appearing,  is  heard  of  no  more  in  the  Gospels,  partly 
because  I  am  persuaded  that  a  great  deal  of  the  teaching 
power  of  the  Bible  lies  in  its  giving  us  in  actual  narrative 
— in  its  vividly-drawn  characters — specimens  of  almost 
all  varieties  of  spiritual  experience.  And  further,  much 
of  this  is  lost  from  the  unthinking  way  in  which  the  Bible 
is  too  commonly  read.  I  should  certainly  be  far  from 
wishing  any  one  to  read  the  Sacred  Volume  with  less  of 
reverence  than  he  now  feels — or  with  less  conviction  that 
all  Scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God.  But  there  is 
a  kind  of  reverence  for  it  which  causes  those  who  cherish 
it  to  lose  a  vast  deal  of  its  benefit.  Such  persons  seem  to 
think,  from  the  startled  air  they  have  w^hen  the  freshness 
and  naturalness  of  the  Bible  are  presented  freshly  and 
naturally,  that  to  make  any  particular  use  of  it  except  to 
arouse  the  thought  of  God's  glory  and  the  solemnity  of 
eternity,  is  almost  profane.  But  surely  if  Christ  was  not 
averse  to  joining  in  the  innocent  occupations  of  daily  and 
social  life — if  He  was  to  be  found  in  familiar  intercourse 
with  men  at  weddings  and  dinner-tables,  not  lowering 
Himself  by  so  acting,  but  teaching  men  that  whatever  is 
not  immoral  is  capable  of  being  used  and  improved  by 
the  healthy,  God-fearing  soul — if  He  encouraged  the  freest 
and  most  unconstrained  use  of  His  loving  wisdom  to  meet 
all  difficulties  for  all  men — if  this  be  so,  as  unquestionably 
it  is,  then  why  should  any  one  be  afraid  to  use  the  Bible 
in  the  same  way  ?  And  we  do  not  so  use  it,  unless  wo 
learn  to  look  at  its  narrative  part  more  particularly,  as  a 
bright,  fresh,  animated  story  of  living  events,  long  past 
indeed,  but  still  living  in  their  value  for  us.  We  must 
consider  the  men  and  women  who  figure  in  that  fascinating 


THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM.        133 

narrative  as  persons  who  actually  lived  and  breathed  as  we 
do,  who  had  their  own  personal  history  made  up,  like  ours 
to-day,  of  joys  and  sorrows — of  doubts  and  struggles. 
And  we  must  try  to  understand  those  experiences  of  theirs 
just  as  we  try  to  comprehend  those  of  any  one  now  living 
to  whom  we  are  attached.  This,  I  am  sure,  is  the  only 
way  to  get  out  of  that  wonderful,  picturesque  story  of  our 
dear  Saviour's  life,  anything  like  the  impression  of  His 
personal  character  which  they  got  who  were  His  daily 
companions.  Don't  be  afraid  of  your  Bible.  Don't  think 
that  the  only  time  to  read  it  is  in  Church,  or  at  family 
prayers,  or  when  you  feel  especially  solemn  and  want  to 
work  yourself  up  to  some  unnatural  condition  of  soul. 
Look  at  it  as  intended  for  your  soul's  use  at  all  times, 
and  as  capable  of  bringing  you  closer  to  your  Lord  than 
any  amount  of  that  spiritual  excitement  which  cannot  see 
that  while  we  live  on  earth  we  must  live  in  another  way 
than  by  shutting  our  eyes  to  all  the  brightness,  and  beauty, 
and  freshness  that  God  has  provided  for  our  delight  and 
cultivation. 

Then  your  spirituality  will  be  really  higher,  because  it 
will  fit  in  more  naturally  and  easily  with  the  common  duties 
of  life.  Your  Christianity  will  be  healthier  because  it  will 
not  shut  itself  ofi"  from  what  belongs  to  an  earnest  life  here 
on  earth.  Christ,  Himself  will  seem  nearer  and  easier  to 
get  at,  when  thought  of  as  associating  familiarly  with  peo- 
ple whom  we  feel  almost  acquainted  with,  than  He  ever 
can  be  when  viewed  only  as  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of 
Grod.  If  He  has  been  the  kind,  and  gentle,  and  loving  com- 
panion of  other  persons  no  wiser  and  no  stronger  than  your- 
self, you  will  find  it  much  less  hard  to  ask  Him  to  be  your 
companion  too,  and  will  find  yourself  naturally  thinking  of 
Him  when  you  are  weak,  or  discouraged,  or  in  trouble. 


134        THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM. 

But  it  was  not  merely  to  introduce  some  much-needed 
counsel  on  reading  the  Bible  that  I  chose  this  text,  nor 
that  I  might  make  you  feel  that  this  Roman  centurion, 
now  so  long  since  gone  to  his  reward,  once  actually  lived, 
not  only  in  a  book,  but  in  flesh  and  blood,  with  thoughts, 
and  duties,  and  sicknesses  and  anxieties.  He  lived,  like  the 
rest  of  us,  to  do  something  and  make  something  out  of 
his  life  here.  In  what  we  have  already  seen  of  his  doings 
and  thinkings,  we  may  find  help  for  our  own  discharge 
of  the  duty  laid  upon  us. 

And  the  first  lesson  is  this — that  even  under  the  most 
unfavorable  circumstances,  one  may  get  help  from  the  sur- 
roundings of  his  daily  life  toward  serving  and  knowing  God. 
It  is  a  piece  of  spiritual  wisdom  which  comes  very  late  to 
many  of  us, — the  conviction  that  we  were  put  into  our 
particular  place  by  God's  special  design,  and  that,  inasmuch 
as  He  had  all  positions  possible  to  choose  among,  and  did 
choose  just  this  one,  it  must  be  the  one  where  we  may  best 
serve  Him,  and  do  good  to  our  own  souls.  The  trials  and 
temptations  to  which  our  position  exposes  us  may  be  very 
numerous.  We  may  find  it  very  hard  work  to  keep  up 
our  spirituality  under  the  temptations  to  impatience  or 
discontent  by  which  we  are  beset.  But  let  us  remember 
that  there  is  no  position  in  life  to  which  the  same,  or  simi- 
lar objections  do  not  apply.  And  the  longing  to  be  rid  of 
these  difficulties  is  very  generally  a  longing  to  be  rid  of  all 
which  troubles  us  simply  because  it  troubles  us,  and  not 
because  we  are  yearning  after  a  larger  opportunity  of  pro- 
moting God's  glory.  That  is,  it  arises  from  weariness, 
and  not  from  the  pure  spirituality  for  which  we  mistake 
it. 

Look  at  the  position  of  this  Roman  centurion.     Could 


THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM.        135 

any  situation  seem  less  likely  to  result  in  his  growing  wiser 
and  purer  than  that  in  which  he  was  placed  ?  He  had 
next  to  nothing  to  do  in  that  little,  out-of-the-way  village, 
and  idleness,  as  we  know,  is  extremely  apt  to  produce  a 
crop  of  vices.  There  was  no  pubhc  worship  there  to  at- 
tract a  lazy  officer,  lounging  about  the  hamlet  trying  to 
kill  the  time.  There  was  only  a  set  of  poor  people,  not  over- 
wise,  or  over-well-instructed  even  in  their  religion;  and 
their  religion  was,  from  a  number  of  circumstances,  one  of 
the  last  likely  to  attract  a  Eoman  officer.  Put  any  ordin- 
ary man  under  circumstances  like  these,  and  you  would  say 
that  the  likelihood  would  be  that  he  would  grow  slothful 
and  inattentive  to  all  but  the  mechanical  duties  of  provid- 
ing for  the  hundred  men  immediately  under  his  charge — 
that  he  would  treat  the  people  among  whom  he  was  sta- 
tioned with  contemptuous  indifference,  if  not  with  harsh- 
ness— that,  in  a  word,  he  would  be  ruined,  body  and  soul, 
by  a  life  so  full  of  temptations  to  harm,  so  bare  of  induce- 
ments to  purity  and  activity.  Certainly,  for  most  men, 
such  would  be  the  probability.  Such  is  generally  admit- 
ted to  be  a  sadly  common  result  among  our  own  army  offi- 
cers when  long  stationed  in  small  frontier  posts,  even  with 
a  much  more  close  and  frequent  intercourse,  through  mails, 
with  civilized  life  than  was  possible  in  those  days.  But 
such  unpromising  surroundings  did  not  produce  the  result 
that  might  reasonably  have  been  looked  for.  Why  not  ? 
For  no  reason  that  I  can  think  of  but  because  he  would 
not  let  them  corrupt  him ;  because  he  fought  against  the 
bad  influences  that  imperilled  his  character — making  du- 
ties, and  learning  to  take  interest  in  the  people  around  him 
— learning  from  them  all  that  he  could,  and  trying  to 
benefit  them  in  return.     Was  there  but  little  for  him  to 


133        THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM. 

do  ?  He  made  work  for  himself.  Was  it  wearisome  to 
have  no  companionship  but  that  of  soldiers,  and  poor, 
ignorant  villagers  ?  He  set  to  work,  and  found  that  poor, 
ignorant  villagers  were  men  needing  help,  and  that  could 
understand,  and  be  grateful  for  kindly  interest  in  their 
welfare. 

When  you  take  into  account  that  this  man  had  not,  to 
begin  with,  even  so  much  knowledge  of  God  as  the  Jewish 
religion  in  its  then  condition  could  convey  to  him,  I 
think  we  may  readily  believe  that  no  one  here  has  so  un- 
promising a  situation  in  life — unpromising,  I  mean,  for 
advancement  in  religious  knowledge  and  grace.  Yet  see 
what  he  made  out  of  his  position ;  even  surprising  Christ 
Himself  by  the  purity  and  depth  of  his  belief;  by  the 
humbleness  of  his  character ;  by  his  readiness  to  accept 
Him  and  what  He  promised. 

Now  I  do  not  mean  to  underrate  the  actual  difficulties 
of  any  man's  lot.  I  know  what  a  weary  feeling  is  pro- 
duced by  the  burden  of  uncongenial  duty.  Poverty  is 
hard  to  bear;  unkindness  is  hard.  Selfishness  and  ill- 
temper,  folly,  and  vice,  and  crime  on  the  part  of  those  with 
whom  we  are  closely  connected  by  blood  or  marriage — all 
these  are  among  the  most  disheartening  things  which  any 
one  can  have  to  endure.  And  trying  as  they  are  at  the 
time,  it  is,  if  possible,  worse  yet  to  look  forward  to  the 
future,  and  see  there  no  prospect  of  relief  for  many  a  year 
to  come,  if  ever  in  this  life.  What  I  do  mean  to  say  is 
this  :  these  things  did  not  happen  by  chance.  Your  lot, 
just  such  as  it  is,  saving  so  far  as  you  yourself  may  have 
made  it  worse,  was  carefully  arranged  by  a  God  whose 
love  and  wisdom  you  dare  not  say  you  doubt.  If  anything 
in  heaven  or  earth  be  true,  then  it  is  true  that  this  lot  was 


THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPEENAUM.        137 

allowed,  in  all  its  features,  both  those  for  which  you  are, 
and  those  for  which  you  are  not  responsible,  in  order  that 
you  might  be  purer  and  holier.  If  you  are  not  growing 
purer  and  holier  it  must  be  your  own  fault.  In  that 
earthly  lot  which  you  grumble  over,  there  lies  all  that  is 
needed  to  make  you  better.  Is  it  not  worth  while  to  give 
up,  once  for  all,  your  whinings  and  lamentations  and  take 
God  at  His  word  ?  Poverty  and  sickness,  sorrow  and  vex- 
ation are  not  likely  to  become  any  easier  excepting  in  one 
way — that  of  submitting  to  them  and  trying  to  make  the 
best  of  them  as  being  God's  carefully  chosen  disciphne  for 
your  improvement.  We  all  know  the  cheerful  serenity 
which  others  have  won  by  this  line  of  conduct.  We  have 
all  seen  people  who  were  not  only  bright  and  contented, 
but  positively  happy,  under  circumstances  more  hard  to 
bear  than  our  own.  So  that  this  lesson  which  I  am  ex- 
pounding from  the  Centurion's  story  cannot  be  considered 
one  of  those  self-satisfied  pieces  of  useless  good  advice  with 
which  the  pulpit  is  often  credited  by  people  who  imagine 
that  a  clergyman  is  ignorant  of  the  real  trials  and  tempta- 
tions of  life.  It  forms  the  burden  of  much  of  the  Bible's 
teaching:  it  is  in  thorough  agreement  with  the  whole 
tenor  of  our  Saviour's  history  on  earth  :  it  is  the  only  way 
in  which  any  man  can  prevent  God's  ordinary  plan  of  ad- 
ministering the  affairs  of  this  world  from  seeming  a  cruel 
and  meaningless  mockery.  Are  these  reasons  enough  for 
my  thinking  there  must  be  a  deal  of  truth  in  it,  and  for  my 
imploring  you  to  see  whether  it  will  not  suit  your  case  ? 

But  the  centurion's  words  chosen  as  our  text  contain 
an  example  of  the  only  hopeful  way  in  which  the  lesson  I 
am  trying  to  enforce  can  be  used.  Apart  from  Christ,  one 
kind  of  discipline  is  as  little  likely  to  give  us  God's  peace 


138        THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM. 

as  another.  There  are  instances  in  the  world's  history  of 
men  who  just  by  stern  determination,  and  without  any  be- 
lief in  a  God  or  a  Providence  have  crushed  down  the  cry 
of  weariness  that  rises  naturally  to  the  lips  of  one  op- 
pressed with  care  and  hopeless  of  a  brighter  future.  But 
such  instances  are  so  very  rare  that  I  should  think  it  use- 
less to  urge  any  ordinary  person  to  follow  their  example. 
And  even  if  it  were  possible  for  us  all  to  repress  our 
misery,  so  far  as  any  outward  exhibition  of  it  is  concerned, 
the  inner  condition  in  which  we  should  still  remain  would 
be  but  a  very  dreary  and  ghastly  one.  It  is  the  peace  of 
Godj  which  passeth  understanding  that  we  all  need  :  and 
that  never  has  been — never  can  be — attained  in  such  ways 
as  this.  For  our  hearts  feel,  and  were  meant  to  feel.  Any- 
thing that  has  for  its  deliberate  purpose  to  freeze  them  up 
and  hinder  their  true  working,  is  only  another  name  for 
suicide — suicide  of  the  best  part  of  our  nature.  And  the 
number  of  those  who  have  nerve  enough  to  kill  their 
hearts  is,  God  be  thanked,  as  small  as  the  number  of  men 
who  can  coolly  take  poison  or  blow  out  their  brains,  when 
not  driven  wild  by  agony  or  fear.  It  is  a  hopeless  thing 
for  all  but  one  or  two  in  a  million  ;  and  it  is  as  useless  in 
fact  as  it  is  hopeless,  to  tell  them  to  submit  and  make  the 
best  of  their  lot,  without  telling  them  how  this  is  to  be 
done — how  it  has  been  done. 

When  the  centurion  asked  Christ  to  help  him,  he  did 
not  make  the  application  in  vague  hope  that  now,  after  all 
other  means^  had  failed  to  cure  his  servant,  it  might  be 
worth  while  to  try  Christ's  power,  as  something  which,  if 
it  did  no  good,  could  at  all  events  do  no  harm.  If  he  had 
come  in  such  a  spirit  as  that,  it  is  not  likely  that  he  would 
have  obtained  what  he  wanted.     Quite  different  was  his 


THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM.        139 

course.  He  was  so  deeply  persuaded  of  the  Saviour's 
dignity  that  he  would  not  even  ask  Him  to  enter  his  house : 
'^  Lord,  I  am  not  worthy  that  thou  shouldst  enter  under 
my  roof;  but  speak  the  word  only  and  my  servant  shall 
be  healed."  He  had  no  doubt  at  all  on  the  subject.  And 
so  the  Lord  could  say  unto  him  :  "As  thou  hast  believed 
so  be  it  done  unto  thee."  His  reward  was  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  his  faith :  as  this  was  boundless  so  was  that.  "And 
his  servant  was  healed  in  the  self-same  hour." 

The  treatment  of  those  who  applied  to  Christ  for  help 
was  always  like  this.  His  common  way  of  answering  such 
applications  was :  "  Thy  faith  hath  saved  thee :  go  in 
peace."  Now  the  troubles  of  which  I  have  been  speaking 
as  so  sorely  demanding  self-discipline  are,  even  more  than 
the  bodily  ills  in  relieving  which  Christ  spent  so  much  of 
His  time,  of  just  the  kind  that  need  faith  in  Him  for  their 
relief.  They  cannot  be  cured  in  an  instant.  The  bitter- 
ness and  the  weariness  which  come  of  discontent,  the  sour- 
ness that  springs  from  impatient  bearing  of  the  faults  of 
others,  the  selfishness  which  wants  all  of  a  sudden  to  over- 
leap discipline,  and  win  at  once  the  peace  Cod  promises — 
all  these  have  grown  in  many  a  case  into  very  deeply 
rooted  diseases,  and  have  established  themselves  in  our  na- 
tures by  years  of  indulgence.  It  may  take  a  long  period 
of  Lenten  discipline  for  them  to  be  thoroughly  gotten  rid  of. 
But  they  can  be  rooted  out.  The  whole  purpose  of  Christ's 
mission  on  earth  is  misunderstood — the  whole  nature  of  the 
Spirit's  agency  upon  human  character  is  overlooked — by  one 
who  does  not  believe  that  all  things  are  possible  with  Cod 
— yes  even  such  wonders  as  this  of  which  I  am  speaking. 
The  Holy  Spirit  puts  into  our  minds  good  desires,  and 
works  with  us  when  we  entertain  them.     From  first  to  last 


140        THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPEENAUM. 

we  are  His  workmanship,  created  in  Christ  Jesus  unto  good 
works,  which  God  hath  before  ordained  that  we  should 
walk  in  them.  If  you  are  shamed  by  the  spectacle  of 
what  this  true-hearted  centurion  did  under  circumstances 
so  very  unfavorable — if  you  have  at  this  moment  a  feel- 
ing that  it  is  your  duty  to  conquer  the  impatience  and 
discontent  that  make  your  life  so  dark  and  comfortless — 
why,  that  is  the  movement  of  God's  Spirit  in  your  heart, 
and  it  is  for  you  not  to  let  it  die  away.  It  is  thus,  com- 
monly, that  He  works.  He  gives  a  little  light,  and  then, 
if  we  use  it.  He  gives  us  more.  He  aids  us  in  the  most 
quiet  way  possible — so  quietly  that  often  men  do  not  think 
of  Him  as  being  with  them  at  aU — to  make  the  first  at- 
tempt. Then,  after  the  resolution  is  made,  there  comes  a 
trial  to  test  it.  If  the  impulse  to  overcome  the  temptation 
be  acted  upon,  more  strength  is  given  for  the  next  occasion 
of  difficulty.  But  if  not — if  you  give  up  because  you  seem 
to  have  nothing  but  yourseK  to  rely  upon, — then  you  fall 
back  into  the  same  hopeless,  heartless  state  you  were  in 
before.  God  does  not  mean  that  you  should  forget  your 
share  in  the  great  work  of  conquering  yourself;  and  so  He 
generally  leaves  you  to  believe  in  His  help,  not  actually  to 
see  it — and  He  leaves  a  great  deal  to  your  belief.  It 
is  a  long  time  before  you  can  eee  Him  working  with 
you.  But  it  is  always  given  at  last  to  one  who  can  both 
work  and  quietly  wait  for  it.  And  then  you  find,  almost 
to  your  surprise,  how  much  has  been  accomplished  while 
you  have  been  steadily  plodding  along.  The  Spirit  has 
been  quietly  working  in  you,  revealing  more  of  Christ,  dis- 
closing more  of  His  love,  and  awakening  a  responsive  feel- 
ing in  your  heart ;  and  so,  without  any  violent  convulsion 
or  excitement,  you  have  become  strong  instead  of  weak, 


THE  CENTURION  AT  CAPERNAUM.        141 

believing  instead  of  faithless.     The  great  miracle  has  been 
wrought  while  you  have  been  looking  for  it. 

Such,  dear  friends,  is  the  general  course  of  God's  Spirit 
and  the  influence  of  Christ.  If  you  have  some  such  task 
in  your  own  life,  I  cannot  promise  you  the  victory  from 
anything  but  patient  work.  First  believe  that  God  meant 
you  to  be  a  true  Christian,  and  that  the  means  for  becom- 
ing one  lie  all  around  you ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
his  purpose  will  finally  become  a  reality.  The  word  has  been 
spoken :  it  rests  with  you  whether  you  shall  be  healed. 


XII. 

STRENGTH  IN  THE  LORD. 

"  My  brethren,  be  strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the  power  of  His  might." 
— Eph.  vi.  10. 

Weakness,  real  or  fancied,  is  the  great  bane,  tlie  great 
hindrance  of  our  lives.  It  acts  in  many  ways.  The 
wrongs  that  we  would  fain  see  righted,  in  the  world,  in 
the  Church, — wrongs,  that  we  too  should  combat  if  we  felt 
ourselves  stronger,  live  on  their  hateful  lives  and  blast 
generation  after  generation.  Inner  defects  whose  daily- 
recurring  manifestation  begets  a  fatal  torpor  and  nerveless 
despair,  find  their  strongest  tenure  of  existence  in  the 
notion  that  after  so  many  fruitless  attempts  we  should  be 
foolish  again  to  pit  our  feebleness  against  their  might. 
The  noble  aspiration  after  growth  in  knowledge  and  holiness 
is  in  some  moods  almost  smothered  because  we  permit  our- 
selves so  Httle  to  estimate  the  spiritual  forces  at  our  com- 
mand. In  this  way,  I  verily  beUeve,  one  may  be  actually 
harmed  by  thinking  too  much  about  the  glories  laid  up  for 
us  in  heaven.  Looking  out  from  the  field  of  daily  life  with 
its  pitiful  successes  and  crushing  reverses  to  that  state  to 
which  we  hope  to  come,  one  may  be  enervated  rather  than 
stimulated — one  may  positively  turn  what  is  meant  to  en- 
courage into  an  excuse  for  inactivity,  under  the  false  im- 
pression that  what  we  are  sure  after  all  to  gain  need 
hardly  be  striven  for  now  with  much  intensity.  To  moods 
like  these  St.  Paul's  words  come  with  strange,  arousing 
142 


STEENGTH   IN   THE   LORD.  143 

power.  You  are  strong,  lie  says,  if  you  would  only  be- 
lieve it.  Defeat  is  out  of  the  question  if  only  you  will 
learn  to  feel  that  victory  is  rightfully  yours.  This  state 
of  morbid  depression  is  only  a  kind  of  hypochondria  of 
which  you  will  be  rid  as  soon  as  you  resolve  upon  it. 
Here  lies  the  strength  you  want.  Take  it  and  use  it.  Be 
strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the  power  of  His  might. 

The  strength  that  comes  from  another  character  is  what 
the  world  offers  us  as  the  nearest  approach  to  the  truth 
St.  Paul  would  here  enforce  regarding  our  soul's  lives. 
No  one  can  be  completely  ignorant  of  it  in  his  own  ex- 
perience. It  is  said  that  the  boldest  men  confess  to  fear 
when  they  first  get  under  fire ;  and  that  it  is  only  by  the 
sense  of  comradeship,  and  above  all  by  the  example  of  their 
leaders  that  they  come  to  the  condition  in  which  regard 
for  their  personal  safety  gives  way  to  resolute  intrepidity. 
So  it  certainly  is  in  many  of  the  commoner  experiences  of 
life.  To  see  another  undertaking  and  performing  tasks 
for  which  we  have  felt  ourselves  unfit, — this  partly  shames, 
but  more  largely  cheers  us  to  do  them  too.  I  believe  that 
many  Christians  who  would  be  seriously  embarrassed  in 
their  religious  lives  by  the  difficulties  of  believing,  are 
helped  to  exercise  a  larger  and  more  salutary  faith  from 
seeing  that  others,  whom  they  know  to  be  not  only  wise 
but  honest,  share  the  same  difficulties,  and  yet  find  a  prac- 
tical solution  for  them  in  unreserved  trust  in  Grod's  truth. 
Here  indeed,  lies,  for  the  large  number,  one  of  the  most 
important  uses  of  the  Church,  and  particularly  of  those  in 
it  who,  known  to  be  honest  and  capable,  grapple  fearlessly 
with  great  problems,  and  show  that  with  all  their  reality 
they  are  not  fatal  to  the  deepest  conviction.  Troubled 
over  this  doctrine,  or  that  dispensation,  you  look  backward 


144  STRENGTH   IN  THE   LORD. 

or  around  you,  and  see  liow  great  intellects  and  pure  souls 
have  borne  these  burdens,  and  you  strengthen  yourself 
with  their  strength,  recognizing  indeed,  your  own  feeble- 
ness, but  drawing  from  the  spectacle  of  their  demeanor  the 
power  to  rise  above  difficulty^  and  from  a  loftier  standing- 
point  to  behold  the  truth,  which  before,  you  despaired  of 
gaining. 

These  are  types  only,  and  very  imperfect  hints,  of  the 
strength  which  St.  Paul  tells  us  we  may  have  in  the  might 
of  God.  They  only  suggest  to  us  one  or  two  of  the  ways  in 
which  this  latter  may  operate  upon  ourselves.  Let  us 
examine  some  of  them. 

One  strengthens  himself  in  Grod's  strength  in  the  first 
place  negatively,  by  getting  rid  of  so  much  of  the  dis- 
couragement arising  from  his  past  as  comes  from  failure. 
That  failure,  we  are  all  aware,  comes  from  ourselves,  not 
from  Him.  The  temptation  you  yielded  to  yesterday  you 
know  would  not  have  overcome  you  had  you  not  either 
trusted  overmuch  in  your  own  power  to  resist  it,  or  failed 
at  the  moment  of  its  onset  to  fall  back  on  Grod.  I  think 
we  may  even  detect,  as  we  look  into  the  motions  of  our 
minds  on  some  occasions,  an  almost  deliberate  and  pur- 
posed shutting  out  of  the  warning  thought  that  His  eye 
is  upon  us,  and  His  presence  with  us,  to  give  need- 
ful strength  if  only  we  will  have  it.  The  doubts  or  even 
the  convictions  we  have  reached  about  the  wrongfulness 
of  a  deed  may  be  deliberately  brushed  aside,  and  all  the 
lessons  of  past  experience  voluntarily  overlooked,  to  give 
up  ourselves  anew  to  what  we  are  sure  is  wrong.  This  is 
an  extreme  case ;  but  something  of  this  kind  I  think  we 
must  all  own  to  in  every  instance  of  wrong-doing .  We 
have  not  tried  to  strengthen  ourselves  in  the  power  of  Our 


STEENGTH   IN   THE   LORD.  145 

Father's  might.  Now  this  is  discouraging  enough  from 
one  point  of  view.  What  we  have  so  often  done  we  may- 
do  again.  But  it  is  cheering  too  if  thus,  through  the  con- 
viction that  our  failure  is  not  unavoidable,  we  reach  the 
resolution  to  avail  ourselves  hereafter  of  what  we  have 
hitherto  neglected.  If  we  can  lay  firm  hold  upon  the 
readiness  and  the  sufficiency  of  Grod's  might  for  all  our  needs, 
we  may  make  a  fresh  beginning,  and  start  upon  a  path  so 
much  the  more  hopeful  as  we  are  not  weighed  down  by 
the  discouragement  of  past  defeats.  In  the  possibility  of 
this  lies  the  grand,  the  imperishable  cheerfulness  of  the 
Christian  life.  No  matter  what  may  have  been  our  want 
of  success,  just  in  so  far  as  we  have  brought  it  upon  us  by 
neglect  of  the  right  means,  in  that  proportion  may  the 
dearly-bought  knowledge  of  what  are  the  right  means 
nerve  us  to  fresh  and  more  courageous  beginnings.  And 
as  every  failure  is  directly  traceable  to  this  mistake,  there 
is  hardly  an  end  to  the  new  starts  we  may  make,  should 
we  still  fail  from  time  to  time.  I  know  the  danger  that 
lies  in  this  way  of  speaking.  I  know  the  possibility  for 
every  one  of  us  of  so  wresting  this  truth  as  to  yield  with 
less  resistance,  knowing  that  we  may  have  another  chance ; 
and  that  this  danger  will  not  be  wholly  done  away  by  the 
other  certainty,  that  there  is  a  state  to  be  reached  even 
in  this  life,  where  there  remaineth  no  more  place  for  re- 
pentance though  we  seek  it  carefully  with  tears.  But 
capable  though  it  be  of  such  a  wresting,  it  is  a  glorious 
and  necessary  truth  ;  one  without  which  the  cheerfulness 
characteristic  of  all  noblest  lives  would  be  impossible — 
without  which  all  hope  must  be  cut  off  from  every  purest 
soul  who  through  the  weakness  of  our  mortal  nature  was 
still  not  wholly  purged  from  sin.  This  then,  is  the  first 
7 


146  STRENGTH    IN    THE    LORD. 

of  the  ways  in  which  we  are  to  strengthen  ourselves  in  the 
might  of  God.  We  are  to  remember  that  His  power,  not 
our  own  as  before,  is  the  main-stay,  the  sole  support,  of 
our  endeavors.  Who  does  not  feel  how  utterly  different  a 
face  this  puts  upon  the  whole  warfare !  Who  that  lays 
hold  upon  it  does  not  feel  himself  able  to  step  forward 
with  new  confidence  in  the  performance  of  duty,  knowing 
now  what  lay  at  the  root  of  old  defeat,  and  conscious  of 
the  strength  of  Grod's  right  arm  in  every  blow  he  deals  at 
the  enemies  of  his  soul ! 

Then  again,  such  a  strengthening  is  curiously  wrought 
when  the  truth  comes  home  to  us  that  He  is  thus  made 
more  unmistakably  our  champion — thus  appears  more 
clearly  on  our  side.  Let  me  try  to  make  this  plain  ;  for 
forgetfulness  of  it  explains  much  that  is  strange  in  the 
non-realization  of  the  promises  vouchsafed  us.  Even 
when  one  has  almost  wholly  outgrown  the  bitter  feeling 
that  calamity  is  proof  of  God's  being  against  us — even 
when  one  has  reached  the  power  to  submit  to  great  trials, 
there  still  remains  a  temper  very  closely  akin  to  it  in  our 
way  of  looking  at  the  Christian  life  at  large — its  disci- 
plinary character  and  ceaseless  struggle,  the  intermittent 
peace,  the  slow  advance,  which  indeed,  do  not  necessarily 
belong  to  it  so  far  as  God's  willingness  goes,  but  which  as 
a  matter  of  fact,  are  its  universal  features  in  a  greater  or 
less  degree.  I  do  not  mean  at  all  that  noble  discontent 
with  ourselves  which,  here  at  least,  is  inseparable  from 
improvement,  and  which  never  lets  us  rest  in  our  strivings 
after  something  better.  Nor  again,  are  we  to  blame  that 
longing  for  rest  in  the  bosom  of  God  which  must  flow  from 
our  natural  weariness  as  well  as  from  the  purest  love  for 
Him.    None  of  these  is  blame-worthy  or  misleading.    But 


STRENGTH    IN   THE    LORD.  147 

the  question  is  :  "  How  do  you  habitually  feel  toward  God 
in  view  of  all  these  things  ?  "  Is  it  your  usual  way  to 
feel  that  the  furthering  of  your  spiritual  life  is  an  end 
desired  in  common  between  yourself  and  Him,  sought  by 
a  mutual  understanding,  so  to  speak,  as  the  sick  man's 
recovery  is  by  himself  and-  his  physician,  each  thoroughly 
understanding  the  other  and  working  patiently  together 
upon  a  plan  agreed  upon  in  full  comprehension  of  the  case 
and  of  the  only  way  to  treat  it  ?  If  this  were  common,  I 
think  we  should  see  more  traces  of  it.  I  see  the  opportu- 
nity of  rendering  more  easy  and  permanent,  its  attainment 
by  each  soul,  in  that  strengthening  in  the  might  of  God 
of  which  St.  Paul  speaks.  It  makes  all  the  difference  in 
the  world  whether  you  simply  submit  to  discipline,  however 
resignedly,  or  take  that  active  share  and  interest  in  God's 
treatment  which  I  have  tried  to  picture  by  the  relation 
between  the  willing  and  understanding  patient  and  his 
physician.  Learn  this  lesson  thoroughly — come  to  view 
the  common  aspect  of  your  spiritual  life  in  the  same  way 
as  that  in  which  the  sick  man  regards  the  minute  prescrip- 
tions and  troublesome  round  of  treatment  at  any  sanitary 
establishment,  and  you  will  have  toward  God,  the  arranger 
of  it,  something  of  that  unreserved  trust,  that  affectionate 
reliance — you  will  win  from  Him  some  of  the  strength 
which  comes  to  a  sufferer  when  he  thinks  of  the  wise 
healer  who  is  thus  building  up  a  disordered  and  weakened 
system.  Convinced,  as  we  may  be  in  general,  of  the  need 
of  some  such  arrangement  as  we  actually  find  for  cleansing 
our  souls,  perhaps  there  are  none  who  do  not  lose  much 
by  the  unconscious  adoption  of  the  view  that  this  particular 
trial  might  have  been  dispensed  with,  or  that  particular 
blessing  granted,  if  God  had   really  been   on   our   side, 


148  STRENQTH    IN    THE    LORD. 

thoroughly  and  heartily — if  our  interests  were  as  tenderly 
cared  for  as  He  has  said.  We  do  not  put  such  feelings 
into  words ;  but  there  they  lie  festering  at  the  roots  of  our 
common  thought  about  God,  hindering  us  from  strength- 
ening ourselves  as  we  might.  But  try  to  root  out  this 
unworthy,  weakening  thought ;  learn  by  prayer  and  eflfort 
to  get  out  of  the  range  of  this  blind,  selfish  feeling ;  strive 
to  make  habitual  the  instinct  that  you  are  indeed  working 
along  with  God,  and  He  with  you  ;  and  there  will  come  a 
strength  which  is  based  upon  His  might,  makes  use  of  it, 
triumphs  by  means  of  it,  wins  sustenance  from  the  en- 
vironment of  trial  and  sorrow  in  which  every  human  life 
has  its  being.  This  is  what  Luther  so  finely  says  in  the 
last  verse  of  his  famous  hymn,  although  it  is  utterly  absent 
in  its  terse  vigor  from  both  the  common  translations, 
so  that  I  must  render  it  for  you: 

"  He 's  with  us  on  the  field  of  strife, 
With  all  His  gifts  and  graces.'' 

I  am  conscious  that  this  matter  of  which  I  am  speaking 
is  one  so  subtle  that  it  is  hard  to  make  it  quite  clear ;  but  it 
is  a  very  real  matter ;  the  lack  of  this  feeling  of  God  s 
being  always  and  wholly  on  our  side,  with  unerring  wisdom 
and  yearning  love,  is  common  and  harmful  to  the  last 
degree.  And  I  have  no  need  to  show  you  that  if  we  do 
win  such  an  habitual  way  of  feehng  towards  Him,  we  shall 
strengthen  ourselves  in  His  might  in  a  manner  that  will 
put  a  very  different  aspect  on  our  lives.  The  theory,  if  I 
may  so  speak,  of  the  Christian  life  as  put  before  us  in  the 
Bible  is,  that  the  regenerated  soul,  with  its  higher  instincts 
awakened,  and  eternal  glory  laid  hold  of  as  its  rightful  in- 
heritance, works  along  with  God,  feels  its  intimate  union 


STRENGTH   IN   THE    LORD.  149 

with  Him,  trusting  with  a  diviner  instinct  even  where  it 
cannot  plainly  see,  unfaltering  in  the  belief  that  sin  is  on 
the  one  side,  and  on  the  other  God  and  His  new-created 
children.  Only  on  some  such  conviction  can  we  live  suc- 
cessfully. The  ups  and  downs,  the  flagging  energy,  the 
fading  visions  of  spiritual  attainment,  that  mark  most 
experiences,  are  traceable  always,  I  think,  to  practically 
admitting  discord  to  establish  itself  between  us  and  the 
Author  of  all  strength,  looking  suspiciously  at  Him,  losing, 
in  a  word,  the  feeling  I  am  speaking  of,  that  He  is  always 
and  unconditionally  on  our  side.  "  My  lot  is  hard,"  you 
say.  '^  Life  is  gloomy  and  filled  to  overflowing  by  weary 
tasks  that  never  come  to  an  end,  and  never  will  until  the  great 
task  we  call  life  is  over.  Such  weakness  as  mine  can  never 
avail  to  do  more  than  to  keep  up  the  pretence  of  resistance. 
I  will  not  actually  throw  down  my  arms  and  surrender ; 
still  less  can  I  desert  to  the  enemy  by  openly  renouncing 
God's  service ;  but  I  know  that  I  shall  go  on  yielding  to 
wrong  about  as  often  as  I  have  been  doing ;  and  your  fine 
platitudes  on  the  growth  of  Christian  character  have  lost 
all  their  meaning,  if  meaning  they  ever  had.  God  would 
help  me,  I  suppose,  if  only  I  were  so  much  better  than  I 
am  as  to  be  able  to  use  His  help ;  but  as  matters  stand  I 
do  not  see  any  signs  of  His  caring  for  me,  and  it  is  a  very 
shadowy  faith  that  I  have  in  the  doctrine  that  '  all  things 
work  together  for  good.'  "  One  often  finds  something  like 
this  in  one's  self  or  in  others,  and  it  shows  well  the  con- 
sequences that  come  about  when  the  faith  is  lost  that  God 
is  with  us.  And,  hopeless  as  such  a  condition  seems  to 
be — impossible  as  it  seems  to  arouse  one  who  has  lost,  or 
thinks  he  has  lost,  the  power  even  to  accept  God's  help, 
there  is  one  remedy  which  often  succeeds  when  hope  is 


150  STRENGTH   IN   THE   LORD. 

almost  gone.  God  is  love,  yet  He  does  not  disdain  to  wake 
men  by  fear.  So  again,  the  distinctive  feature  of  the  Gospel 
is  its  elevating  human  character,  and  redeeming  it  from 
the  hopelessness  of  self-loathing  by  giving  it  in  the  incar- 
nate Christ  a  chance  to  respect  itself ;  yet  it  does  not  shut 
out  the  sense  of  shame.  Now,  what  lies  at  the  bottom  of 
all  this  moaning  and  whining  about  our  souls — this  pre- 
tence of  having  gone  from  Dan  to  Beersheba  and  found 
that  all  was  barren?  It  comes  from  selfishness — from 
keeping  our  eyes  perpetually  turned  in  upon  ourselves  and 
our  discomforts  till  we  are  like  that  most  contemptible  of 
all  beings,  a  fancied  invalid,  upturning  everything  to  gratify 
a  foolish  whim,  and  then  complaining  because  it  does  not 
satisfy.  Of  what  we  are  looking  after,  the  spiritual  life  is 
barren,  particularly  when  we  so  look.  God's  promises 
have  no  application  to  him  who  is  mainly  anxious,  not  to 
serve  God,  but  to  be  comfortable.  If  such  an  one  could 
use  the  power  of  the  Lord's  might  to  do  more  successfully 
that  which  he  comj^lains  of  having  failed  in,  the  result 
would  be  hardly  commensurate  with  the  means.  It  would 
be  to  foster  just  the  selfishness  which  must  be  disappointed, 
in  order  that  there  may  be  aroused,  before  it  is  too  late, 
that  noble  shame  under  whose  influence  the  falser  self 
slips  from  us  like  a  robe,  and  we  stand  before  God  abashed 
yet  strong,  with  hitherto  unknown  strength,  in  the  con- 
sciousness that  there  is  something  better  to  live  for.  In  a 
mood  like  this  one  learns  many  lessons  that  before  were 
empty  sounds;  and  none  more  thoroughly  than  this,  that 
if  God  seems  not  to  be  on  our  side  it  is  because  we  have  left 
Him,  and  turned  from  the  patient  pursuit  of  holiness  to 
the  enervating  search  after  self-pleasing.  He  will  be  with 
you  soon-  enough,  and  visibly  enough,  when  you  retrace 
your  steps. 


STRENGTH  IN  THE   LORD.  151 

^  But  St.  Paul  bids  us  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  as  well  as 
in  the  power  of  His  might.  The  ways  in  which,  as  I  have 
been  trying  to  point  out,  one  may  do  the  latter,  are  of  the 
kind  that  come  from  setting  right  our  views  and  feelings 
as  to  the  manner  in  which  life  is  to  be  led  and  duty  done 
— remembering  truths  half-forgotten,  and  recognizing  as 
on  our  side  the  Lord  whom  we  had  hidden  from  us  by  our 
selfishness.  Deeply  internal  as  such  processes  in  one  sense 
are,  they  are  almost  of  an  external  and  mechanical  nature 
as  compared  with  what  the  apostle  means  when  he  bids  us 
be  strong  first  of  all  in  the  Lord.  The  most  unimpeded 
vision  of  all  the  truths  I  have  been  reminding  you  of — the 
fullest  grasp  of  them  as  sublime  and  unquestionable  facts, 
would  avail  nothing  to  one  to  whom  they  came  with  no 
union  with  God  such  as  is  meant  by  the  deep  phrase  being 
in,  or  being  strong  in  the  Lord.  So  too,  it  would  be  almost 
useless  to  try  to  describe  it  to  those  who  have  had  such 
knowledge  and  only  suffered  it  to  lose  its  immense  import- 
ance. It  is  not  a  description  of  it  then,  that  I  shall  try 
to  make,  but  only  a  reminder  of  things  we  all  know,  when 
I  speak  in  conclusion  a  few  words  about  this  matter,  put 
so  prominently  by  St.  Paul  in  his  farewell  exhortation  to 
the  Ephesians.  You  have  never,  unless  perhaps  moment- 
arily, confounded  things  so  different  as  being  in  the  Lord 
and  being  merely  a  member  of  the  Church  outwardly — 
professing  Christ,  and  knowing  Christ — discharging  duty, 
and  making  yourself  a  hving  sacrifice  to  Him  who  re- 
deemed you. 

Both  are  needful,  but  the  higher  absorbs  and  necessarily 
implies  the  lower.  Whether  it  came  suddenly,  or  spread 
itself  over  a  series  of  ripening  years,  the  consciousness  of 
a  strange  oneness  with  God  in  Christ  through  the  Spirit 


152  STRENGTH   IN  THE   LORD. 

makes  the  crowning  glory,  the  very  substance,  of  the  Hfe 
led  by  every  redeemed  soul.  In  some  way  you  cannot 
account  for,  can  hardly  trace,  there  grew  up  a  feeling  of 
mysterious  connection  with  Him,  which  it  is  the  business 
of  all  the  details  of  life  to  make  more  intense  and  constant. 
The  Bible  speaks  of  rewards  and  punishments  because  hu- 
man language  is  powerless  to  express  the  thoughts  of 
Christ  when  He  turns  from  earthly  things  to  speak  of 
heavenly.  A  punishment  no  doubt  it  is  when  this  divine, 
consoling  presence  of  God  in  the  heart  loses  its  clearness, 
but  when  you  are  yourself  you  do  not  think  of  it  as  being 
a  punishment,  any  more  than  the  dying  man  thinks  of 
death  as  a  punishment  for  having  broken  the  laws  ol 
health,  and  worn  out  his  system  before  its  time.  You  feel 
it  as  the  dying  out  of  the  soul's  vitality.  With  this  you 
can  do  all  things,  and  when  it  is  at  its  full  those  words  are 
no  exaggeration.  Without  it  one  has  the  sensation  of  losing 
health,  losing  strength,  losing  life.  Then  it  is,  and  only 
then,  that  the  false  moods  overcome  one  of  which  I  spoke 
before — then,  that  past  failure  gives  the  gloomy  foreboding 
of  continued  and  inevitable  disaster — then,  that  God  seems, 
as  with  Pharaoh's  army,  to  take  the  other  side — to  take  off 
our  chariot- wheels,  so  that  we  drive  them  heavily.  Here 
is  a  mysterious  fact  accomplished  in  our  life  :  God  has 
once  embraced,  adopted,  regenerated  us.  He  has  given  us 
this  great  blessing  of  known,  felt  union  with  Himself;  and 
all  our  experiences,  of  bitter  reproach  and  discouragement, 
as  well  as  of  grave,  serene,  solemn  joy,  unite  to  teach  us 
that  here  lies  the  secret  of  our  lives.  Men  may  call  it 
mysticism,  self-deception — all  the  names  by  which  igno- 
rance derides  the  experiences  and  convictions  that  it  is  too 
low  to  conceive  of;  but  one  thing  we  know,  that  whereas 


STRENGTH   IN  THE   LORD.  153 

we  had  been  blind  once,  we  saw,  and  that  whether  di- 
minished or  augmented,  that  illumination  is  "yet  the 
fountain  light  of  all  our  day,  is  yet  the  master  light  of  all 
our  seeing."  Increased  too,  and  lessened,  we  have  learned 
that  it  may  be.  The  laws  by  which  it  grows  or  wanes  are 
too  clearly  impressed  upon  our  minds  to  need  learning 
them  again.  Neglect  of  communion  with  God,  self-seeking, 
whether  of  the  kind  just  spoken  of,  or  undue  immersion  in 
the  cares  and  business  and  pleasures  of  this  life, — these  we 
have  seen  spreading  gloom  over  our  heavens  and  turning 
to  brass  the  earth  beneath  our  feet.  What  need  then — 
what  urgent  need,  that  we  should  be  awakened  by  the 
trumpet  voice  of  Paul  to  be  strong  in  the  Lord  !  At  our 
imminent  peril  we  forget  the  essentially  miraculous  and 
supernatural  character  of  the  life  these  souls  of  ours  must 
lead.  Subject  as  it  is  to  the  ordinary  laws  which  give  the 
harvest  to  him  who  sows,  there  is  in  the  proportion  and 
the  nature  of  this  harvest  something  transcending  all  hu- 
man imagination  but  that  of  him  who  knows  it.  Seeing 
then  that  ye  know  these  things,  happy  are  ye  if  ye  do  them. 
Happy  in  feeling  incapacity  melt  away  and  courage  take  its 
place — happy  in  regaining  what  the  slow  years  have  stolen 
of  spiritual  health  and  serenity — happy  above  all,  not  in 
your  own  restored  peace  alone,  but  in  the  knowledge  that 
even  the  heart  of  God  throbs  with  a  joy  that  He  has  put 
into  His  creatures  the  power  to  bestow  upon  Him — the  joy 
of  seeing  another  of  the  souls  for  whom  Christ  died,  re- 
turning more  and  more  lovingly  to  His  fatherly  embrace. 
"  Therefore  my  brethren,  be  strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the 
power  of  His  might." 


XIII. 

CHRIST  FOUND  IN  THE  PATH  OF  DAILY  DUTY. 

"Simon  Peter  saith  unto  them,  I  go  a  fishing.  They  say  unto  him, 
We  also  go  with  thee.  They  went  forth,  and  entered  into  a  ship  im- 
mediately ;  and  that  night  they  caught  nothing." — St.  John   xxi.  3. 

The  lives  of  few  of  us  pass  without  being  varied  by- 
great  crises  in  which  the  soul  is  lifted  out  of  the  monotonous 
daily  routine,  and  transported  into  a  new  and  untried 
sphere.  And  no  man  who  has  gone  through  such  an  ex- 
perience but  has  felt,  when  the  crisis  was  past,  a  dull,  aching 
sense  of  emptiness.  In  a  state  like  this  his  eyes  open 
wearily,  morning  by  morning,  on  the  old  life,  whose  hours 
are  to  be  passed  in  one  unvarying  course,  made  more 
intolerable  by  the  memory  of  what  has  been,  and  now  is 
no  more.  It  seems,  at  such  times,  that  we  have  been 
awakened  to  a  sense  of  the  vastness  of  life,  only  to  be 
plunged  again  into  a  dull  round  of  trivialities,  which  must 
crush  out  of  us  all  the  high  capabilities  of  which  we  have 
but  newly  become  conscious  :  the  glimpse  into  the  world  of 
greatness  renders  the  petty  details  of  ordinary  existence 
unendurable. 

Such  crises  are  of  various  kinds,  and  the  reaction  is  dif- 
ferent according  to  the  character  of  that  from  which  it 
arises. 

After  long  loveless  years,  in  which  the  dim  cloud  of  in- 
difference seemed  to  have  settled  over  our  life,  we  may 
have  suddenly  awaked  to  the  sweet  consciousness  of  human 
X54 


CHRIST  FOUND   IN   THE   PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY.       155 

sympathy  and  affection ;  and  after  basking  for  awhile  in 
its  precious  glow,  we  may  have  seen  the  sun  from  which  it 
came  sinking  slowly  before  our  eyes  behind  the  dark  hills 
of  death.  About  such  an  experience  as  this  there  is  a 
blank  hopelessness  which  no  one  can  put  into  words — a 
despairing  apathy  to  all  human  interests  that  reaches  down 
to  those  deeps  in  the  soul  which  no  plummet  of  speech  can 
fathom.  And  when  the  life  that  is  in  us  begins  to  revive 
and  we  look  out  on  the  world  again,  how  very  different  it 
all  appears  from  what  it  did  under  that  golden  radiance  ! 
How  tastless  are  the  occupations  in  which  we  once  engaged , 
if  with  no  keen  enjoyment,  at  least  without  the  breathless 
languor  that  fills  us  now  ! 

Or  again,  it  may  be  the  descent  from  the  heights  of  glory 
to  which  our  first  communion  with  Christ  has  lifted  us, 
that  works  this  effect  upon  our  souls.  We  have  been 
blessed  with  an  almost  superhuman  rapture.  As  we  walked 
along  the  pathway  of  life,  we  were  lifted  as  it  were  to 
the  seventh  heaven  and  became  lost  in  bliss ;  but  when  He 
whom  we  love  abandons  us  for  a  moment,  in  order  to  try 
our  faith,  and  produce  in  us  that  spiritual  strength  that 
grows  by  trust  in  an  unseen  Lord,  then  we  stand  like  the 
Apostles  on  the  mount  of  Olives  gazing  blankly  into 
Heaven  after  their  Master  as  their  eyes  lost  Him  in  the 
clouds.  The  first  feeling  here  is  like  that  in  the  former 
case — a  longing  to  lie  down  and  die.  We  cannot  bend  our 
energies  to  the  execution  of  our  daily  duties — we  cannot 
go  back  as  the  disciples  did,  to  our  commonplace  home, 
and  in  the  hard,  unfeeling  crowd  prepare  ourselves  for 
His  second  coming. 

Now  it  was  after  an  experience  uniting  both  these  pe- 
culiarities that  St.  Peter  gave  utterance  to  the  words  of 


156     CHRIST   FOUND   IN   THE   PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY. 

the  text.  Any  one  who  has  carefully  studied  the  latter 
parts  of  the  Gospels  which  recount  the  events  that  took 
place  after  the  Resurrection,  has  marked  the  feelings  which 
filled  the  hearts  of  those  seemingly  deserted  men.  By 
ourselves  indeed,  accustomed  as  are  our  eyes  to  that  un- 
earthly radiance  in  which  are  bathed  all  the  occurrences  of 
those  forty  days,  and  knowing,  as  we  do,  how  all  was  of  a 
piece  with  what  had  gone  before,  the  risen  Jesus  is  recog- 
nized as  the  same  who  had  led  and  loved  His  own  sheep 
during  the  years  of  His  earthly  life.  But  to  the  eleven  He 
was  as  dead.  They  could  not  believe  that  He  was  again 
alive  after  having  yielded  up  His  breath  on  the  ignominious 
cross.  Again  and  again  we  see  this  difficulty  making  its 
appearance.  They  thought  that  it  was  His  ghost  and  not 
Himself.  Even  on  the  present  occasion,  we  see  clearly 
enough  the  awe  that  held  them  back  from  asking  Him, 
''  Who  art  thou  ?"  The  testimony  of  their  senses  was  that 
here  was  their  Lord.  The  testimony  of  their  minds  was 
that  it  could  not  be.  And  it  was  plainly  to  end  this  con- 
flict that  our  Saviour  once  and  again  exhibited  to  them  the 
most  decisive  proofs  that  it  was  His  veritable  self.  To  the 
affrighted  disciples :  "  Behold  My  hands  and  My  feet, 
that  it  is  I,  Myself :  handle  Me  and  see,  for  a  spi7nt  hath 
not  flesh  and  bones  as  ye  see  Me  have."  To  the  doubting 
Thomas  :  "  Reach  hither  thy  finger  and  behold  My  hands, 
and  reach  hither  thy  hand  and  thrust  it  into  My  side." 

The  feelings  then,  of  Peter,  if  like  those  of  his  fellows, 
which  we  have  no  reason  to  doubt,  were  those  of  one  who 
mourns  for  a  dead  friend;  while  on  the  other  hand  he 
doubtless  felt  profoundly  the  loss  of  that  spiritual  guide 
whom,  with  all  the  earnestness  of  his  great,  turbulent 
heart,  ho  had  sincerely  adored.     It  is  only  when  all  this 


CHRIST   FOUND   IN   THE   PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY.     157 

stands  clearly  before  us  that  we  can  apprehend  the  emotions 
which  filled  him,  the  mingled  regrets  and  loathing  with 
which  he  was  resolutely  combating,  when  he  determined  to 
set  himself  at  work  once  more.  To  all  outward  appearance 
he  began  life  again  just  where  he  had  left  off.  Who  can 
tell  the  sinking  of  heart  with  which  he  sat  down  to  mend 
those  same  nets  which  he  was  preparing  to  cast  into  the 
sea  when  the  strange,  lovely  youth  after  whom  his  heart 
now  yearned,  passed  by  and  bade  him  leave  all  and  follow 
Him !  No  doubt  to  his  neighbors  this  seemed  but  the  na- 
tural result  of  a  course  of  procedure  so  at  variance  with  the 
dictates  of  worldly  prudence.  Very  likely  too,  that  rough 
untutored  soul  was  hardly  conscious  of  all  that  intercourse 
with  Christ  had  given  him — perhaps  mourned  over  the 
hopes  of  earthly  grandeur  which  had  been  so  sadly  dashed. 
But  a  hero  he  was,  and  a  hero  he  proved  himself,  by  that 
one  act  of  determining  not  to  waste  his  life  in  idle  regrets. 
He  had  drunk  too  deeply  at  the  fountain  of  the  Saviour's 
wisdom  not  to  have  wrought  into  the  very  texture  of  his 
soul  the  truth  that  self-sacrifice— the  surrender  of  darling 
plans  or  hopes,  may  become  the  foremost  duty.  "  Take  up 
thy  cross  and  follow  Me,"  was  ringing  in  his  ears  ;  and  so 
he  went  back,  sadly  we  know,  but  with  a  stern  determina- 
tion, to  his  old  life-work,  feeling  that  after  all,  perhaps,  the 
promise  that  he  should  become  a  fisher  of  men  would  never 
be  fulfilled,  but  firm  in  his  resolution  to  do  his  duty,  come 
what  might. 

Heroism  like  St.  Peter's,  my  friends,  is  what  we  want, 
every  one  of  us.  Heroism  that  can  grapple  with  the  mean, 
and  the  paltry,  and  the  trivial, — that  can  do  its  duty  under 
all  circumstances,  without  murmuring  over  the  hardness 
of  its  lot,  or  wishing  that  its  fate  had  been  to  labor  among 


158       CHRIST   FOUND   IN   THE   PATH    OF    DAILY   DUTY. 

other  scenes,  less  dreary  and  less  monotonous.  Heroism 
that,  once  seeing  where  it  has  to  work,  sits  resolutely- 
down  and  mends  the  torn  nets,  preparatory  to  going  out 
in  the  murky  night,  and  toiling  through  the  long  watches, 
just  because  God  has  said,  "  There  lies  thy  duty;  do  it." 

Probably  not  one  person  here  but  has  moments  when 
feelings  like  those  of  Peter  arise— moments  when  he  longs, 
and  struggles  to  free  himself  from  the  fetters  which  bind 
him  to  one  corner  in  the  great  workhouse  of  the  world.  Let 
us  then  look  for  light  to  dispel  these  phantoms ;  let  us  try 
to  see  what  are  the  reasons  why  the  All-wise  has  allotted 
to  us  just  our  particular  spot  to  toil  in,  and  no  other;  let 
us  endeavor  to  trace  out  some  of  the  causes  why  so  large 
a  part  of  our  lives  must  be  filled  up  with  these  little  things 
that  so  test  our  patience. 

When  we  put  Christianity  side  by  side  with  the  moral 
systems  which  preceded  it,  we  are  struck  with  one  grand 
peculiarity.  The  most  important  graces  of  the  soul  are 
those  which  ought  to  be  exercised  in  every-day  life — all 
virtues  indeed,  find  here  their  appropriate  sphere.  Every 
day  you  are  called  upon  to  practice  that  charity  which 
thinketh  no  evil.  Every  hour  a  demand  is  made  upon  the 
faith  which  brings  into  close  contact  with  the  material 
world  around  you,  the  invisible  Father  and  Euler  of  all. 
Your  dearest  friend,  your  darling  child,  claim  from  you 
that  patience  and  forbearance  without  which  every  man's 
hand  would  be  against  his  neighbor. 

On  the  contrary,  the  occasion  for  great  deeds  that  blazon 
a  re{)utation  in  the  book  of  fame,  come  very  rarely.  If  every 
man  were  a  Washington,  very  few  would  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  act  the  sublime  part  that  has  placed  our  great 
patriot's  name  high  above  those  who  might  have  emulated 


CHRIST   FOUND   IN   THE   PATH   OF   DAILY    DUTY.        159 

him,  had  their  surroundings  been  somewhat  other  than 
they  were. 

Now,  it  is  in  the  recognition  of  this  fact  that  the  pecu- 
liarity lies  of  which  I  have  spoken.  Other  systems  trained 
men,  or  tried  to  train  them,  for  great  crises  that  never 
came.  For  the  little  duties  that  fill  each  day  to  overflow- 
ing they  left  them  to  fit  themselves. 

We  look  back  on  the  majestic  panorama  of  ancient 
histoiy,  and  are  stirred  to  the  very  soul  by  the  grand 
heroism  which  animated  it,  but  we  forget  how  different 
Roman  life  would  appear  if  we  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
sternness,  and  cruelty,  and  despotism  which  lie  concealed 
beneath  the  surface  of  noble  daring  and  self-devotion. 
Christianity,  on  the  other  hand,  seeing  how  these  same 
virtues  can  seldom  be  practised  on  so  lofty  a  scale,  sets 
itself  to  work  to  apply  them  where  they  are  most  wanted, 
in  common,  every-day  life.  It  tells  you  that  it  is  easy 
enough  to  summon  up  the  energies  to  a  great  work  when 
thousands  are  ready  to  applaud  you  if  you  succeed,  or  to  hiss 
you  if  you  fail ;  but  that  the  real  test  of  a  true  soul  is  to  do 
these  things  in  your  own  family,  or  in  the  society  in  which 
you  live ;  to  do  them  quietly,  unobtrusively,  without 
looking  around  to  see  if  men's  eyes  are  upon  you.  When 
you  are  a  world's  spectacle,  a  dozen  lower  motives  may 
creep  in  and  urge  you  on.  When  your  left  hand  knoweth 
not  what  your  right  hand  doeth,  the  eye  of  One  whose  sole 
approbation  outweighs  the  plaudits  or  the  jeers  of  a 
universe  is  upon  you,  and  then  your  reward  is  something 
for  which  an  immortal  soul  may  well  strain  every  nerve. 

This  then,  dear  friends,  is  one  reason  why  you  are  called 
upon  to  labor  in  an  obscure  corner  among  petty  duties ; 
because  they  are  obscure  and  petty,  and  they  show  that 


160       CHRIST   FOUND    IN   THE   PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY. 

the  work  is  done  for  "  the  great  Task-master's  eye/'  and 
not  for  human  praise.  It  is  recorded  that  in  the  early- 
days  of  art  workmen  were  wont  to  bestow  the  most  sedu- 
lous care  on  those  hidden  parts  of  a  temple  on  which  no 
human  eye  was  to  rest,  '*  for  the  gods  see  everywhere." 
Your  life  is  a  temple ;  and  while  lofty  column  and  delicate 
capital  should  present  an  aspect  that  must  win  the  admira- 
tion of  mankind,  remember  that  it  is  in  the  slow,  careful 
elaboration  of  the  secret  shrine  where  none  can  penetrate, 
that  your  sincere  devotion  to  Grod  is  to  be  most  plainly 
exhibited.  If  you  were  to  set  yourself  to  work,  in  that 
boastful  spirit  which  tempts  you  to  desert  your  dark,  hum- 
ble sphere,  at  some  such  achievement  as  you  are  burn- 
ing to  undertake,  very  likely  your  strength  would  fail  j  ust 
when  it  was  most  wanted.  Peter  was  loud  in  his  promises 
of  what  he  would  do,  but  contrast  his  bearing  when  he 
said,  "  Though  I  should  die  with  Thee  yet  will  I  not  deny 
Thee,"  with  the  self-loathing  with  which,  when  the  foul 
denial  had  been  uttered,  he  went  out  and  wept  bitterly. 

No.  The  duty  which  is  laid  upon  you,  that  you  can 
perform.  But  do  not  long  for  some  higher  sphere  in 
which  you  may  display  your  fidelity,  unless  you  desire  to 
have  that  divine,  sorrowful  face  turned  upon  you  with  its 
speechless  depth  of  rebuke.  Then  you  will  long,  more 
earnestly  than  you  now  wish  to  be  called  up  higher,  that 
you  were  sitting  by  Peter,  mending  those  nets  that  now 
so  weary  you,  and  bending  yourself  with  passionate,  sor- 
rowful activity  to  the  performance  of  what  alone  you 
can  do. 

Again,  suppose  that  the  future  Apostle,  instead  of  man- 
fully doing  what  his  hand  found  to  do,  had  listlessly  sat 
down  to  dream  of  what  had   taken  place  during  his  life 


CHEIST   FOUND   IN   THE    PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY.       161 

with  Christ.  Suppose  he  had  gloomily  meditated  on  the 
words  that  had  so  often  fallen  from  the  Saviour's  lips — the 
unfulfilled  promises  of  glory  and  a  kingdom  which  had 
seemed  so  strangely  to  contrast  with  the  humility  and 
poverty  in  which  his  Lord's  life  had  been  spent,  and  to  give 
some  color  to  the  royal  expectations  which  were  connected 
with  the  Messiah.  Can  we  not  see  how  all  this  would  have 
drained  him  of  the  energy  which  he  now  so  much  needed  ? 
Can  we  not  see  that  it  would  have  sapped  the  foundations 
of  his  faith,  and  made  him  a  useless  dreamer,  unfitted  for 
his  duties  by  the  very  experience  that-was  intended  to  foster 
in  him  the  growth  of  all  true  manliness  ?  Contact  with 
the  living  truth  would  thus  have  made  him  false,  hollow, 
as  unfit  for  any  good  end  as  the  salt  of  the  Master's  parable, 
useless  for  the  land  or  for  the  dung-hill,  to  be  cast  out  of 
men. 

A  feature  of  the  reaction  already  spoken  of,  and  one  of 
its  most  pernicious  features,  is  the  tendency  often  connected 
with  it,  to  throw  aside  all  exertion,  and  let  our  days  slip 
by  in  reveries  on  the  past  and  its  possibilities.  A  host  of 
excuses  present  themselves  readily  enough,  and  favored  by 
our  disinclination  to  rise  from  our  indolence,  they  hang 
like  a  leaden  weight  on  the  arm  which  should  be  at  honest 
work.  True  it  is  that  we  are  enfeebled  by  the  shock  to 
our  inner  system,  true  that  very  little  strength  is  left.  But 
the  question  is  not,  "  Will  you  wait  till  you  are  stronger, 
or  over-tax  your  exhausted  powers?";  but,  ''Will 
you  do  what  you  can,  or  lose  the  strength  you  have  by 
doing  nothing?  "  Nowhere  is  it  of  more  vital  importance 
so  far  to  forget  the  things  which  are  behind  that  you  may 
reach  forward  to  those  that  are  before.  Do  not,  indeed, 
forget,  if  you  have  learned  it,  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as 


162       CHRIST   FOUND   IN   THE   PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY. 

pare,  unselfish  love  on  earth.  Do  not  forget,  if  you  have 
once  enjoyed  it,  what  it  is  to  have  Christ  walking  by  your 
side,  and  filling  your  soul  with  holy  love  and  hope.  But, 
on  the  other  hand,  do  not  sufi'er  a  vision  which  was  accorded 
you  that  you  might  be  more  loving  and  more  holy,  to  fill 
you  with  misanthropy,  or  faithlessness.  Let  the  love  that 
you  have  tasted  strengthen  you  to  show  to  others  that  love, 
whose  discovery  changed  your  own  life  from  one  of  sel- 
fishness to  one  of  all-embracing  charity.  Instead  of  hiding 
in  a  napkin  that  talent  committed  to  your  care,  the  un- 
dying tenderness  of  Christ, — work  out  that  lesson  in  each 
little  act  of  every  day.  If  for  awhile  the  Saviour  is  lost  to 
your  sight,  show  that  you  know  Him  to  be  very  near 
to  you  by  faith,  teach  every  one  around  you  to  believe 
in  the  possibility  of  God's  love  by  displaying  that  which 
bears  so  close  a  resemblance  to  it,  the  love  of  a  man. 
For  there  are  many  in  this  wide  world  of  ours,  who  never 
know  what  it  is  to  have  a  gleam  of  human  sympathy 
shining  in  on  their  darkness.  All  around  you  there  are 
souls  that  would  welcome  a  face  of  wise,  kindly,  human 
interest,  as  you  would  welcome  that  of  an  angel.  Hard- 
ened by  the  terrible  struggle  for  daily  bread,  they  are  not 
so  hardened  that  tkey  cannot  understand  that  it  is  some- 
thing sent  from  heaven  to  them,  when  one  comes  and 
takes  their  hand,  and  utters  a  few  words  of  gentle,  human 
cheer,  and  does  one  little  deed  to  show  that  those  words 
are  not  lies,  like  all  the  rest  they  hear.  0,  it  is  base  to 
let  your  powers  rust  uselessly,  embittering  your  own  life, 
when  they  might  be  so  nobly  employed  in  making  plain 
to  some  dwarfed,  stunted  soul,  that  there  is  something  to 
strive  for  besides  food  for  the  body.  Waiting,  forsooth, 
for  some  great  task  which  shall  summon  up  all  your  ener- 


CHRIST   FOUND   IN    THE   PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY.       163 

gies, and  be  worthy  of  them!  Well,  here  is  a  task  which 
is  not  a  little  one  surely,  nor  an  ignoble  one,  since  for  this 
very  end  the  Son  of  God  lived  and  died.  Go  out  and  see 
whether  this  is  not  the  work  you  are  made  for.  At  all 
events,  better  this  than  nothing.  Better  this  than  idly 
waiting  for  an  opportunity  which  may  never  come,  while 
all  the  time,  nearer,  nearer,  nearer,  speeds  that  great  day 
when  you  shall  give  an  account  of  the  deeds  done  in  the 
body. 

And  after  all,  where  do  we  get  the  right  to  call  these 
deeds  little  and  paltry  and  insignificant  ?  What  gives  its 
character  and  complexion  to  an  act  ?  We  assume,  in  thus 
speaking  that  it  is  the  way  in  which  men  look  at  it,  and 
admire  it, — that  it  is  the  number  of  eyes  bent  upon  him 
who  performs  it,  the  number  of  voices  that  unite  in  singing 
his  praises.  But  will  such  a  standard  do  ?  How  many 
eyes  looked  on  the  poor  widow  who  cast  her  mites  into 
the  treasury  of  God  ?  One.  But  that  one  was  worth  all. 
That  one  was  looking  not  at  the  amount  of  the  gift,  but  at 
the  wealth  of  self  denial  and  trust  in  God,  of  which  the  out- 
ward deed  was  the  symbol  and  exponent.  How  many 
think  you  would  have  heard  of  the  tender  love  of  that 
nameless  woman,  who  in  her  tender  solicitude  of  Christ, 
brought  the  box  of  ointment  to  anoint  Him  beforehand  to 
the  burial — how  many  would  have  heard  of  her  had  not 
the  quick  eye  of  the  Lord  seen  what  was  in  her  heart,  and 
recorded  it  in  words  that  shall  never  lose  their  lustre  while 
the  world  shall  stand  ?  Those  were  great  deeds,  we  think, 
and  one  whose  moral  sight  is  undimmed  will  not  hesitate 
to  rank  them  with  the  loftiest  achivements  of  the  world's 
loftiest  heroes.  But  it  is  not  that  we  praise  them.  That 
gives  them  no  additional  glory.     They  were  great  when 


164       CHRIST   FOUND  IN  THE   PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY. 

they  were  performed ;  great  when  they  were  conceived,  and 
the  heart  where  they  arose  swelled  with  powers  as  great  as 
any  which  are  now  rusting  idly  for  want  of  some  noble  task. 

It  was  that  inner  character  that  led  the  Saviour  to  set 
on  them  His  royal  signet.  And  on  every  such  act — on 
every  quiet  deed  of  love  or  self-denial — on  every  word  of 
kindliness  or  cheer — on  each  and  all  of  these  rests  just  the 
same  halo  of  the  Master's  approval.  Would  you  win  His 
favor— would  you  have  the  consciousness  that  His  eye  rests 
on  you  with  the  same  glance  as  that  which  cheered  the 
bearer  of  the  alabaster  box  ?  Go  thou  and  do  likewise. 
Men  may  not  know  of  it.  Better  so.  You  will  be  saved 
fi^om  the  temptation  of  doing  it  to  gain  their  applause. 

But  the  universe  of  God  is  a  whispering-gallery  through 
which  no  lowest  word  from  the  lips  of  pitying  love,  but  re- 
sounds in  thunder-tones  through  heaven's  hosts,  far,  far 
up  to  the  great  white  throne.  The  loud  plaudits  of  men 
you  can  dispense  with  :  can  you  do  without  the  still  bene- 
diction of  the  Father  ?  Can  you  endure  to  have  your  life 
laid  bare  and  not  find  in  it  one  gentle  or  kindly  deed  to 
one  of  these  least  of  the  brethren  of  the  Judge  ?  Can  you 
go  on  without  listening  to  the  voice  within  urging  you  on 
to  light  up  these  little  acts  with  the  ready  will  and  devo- 
tion to  God  which  makes  of  them  the  only  deeds  that  will 
stand  at  that  day  when  the  fan  shall  winnow  out  from 
history  the  victories  of  warrior  and  statesman,  and  shrivel 
them  into  dust  ?     If  you  can,  you  have  a  strong  heart.  • 

Lastly,  mark  the  result.  Peter  bent  himself  to  the  duty 
which  lay  before  him,  and  at  whatever  cost  he  finished  it. 
All  night  he  toiled,  and  unsuccessfully :  His  faith  and  his 
devotion  were  to  be  sorely  tried.  "  And  that  night  they 
caught  nothing," 


CHRIST   FOUND   IN  THE   PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY.        165 

But  with  early  morn  a  figure  was  seen  on  the  shore. 
Ghostly,  glimmering  through  the  dawn  it  stood  there,  as 
though  to  mock  at  the  fishers'  bootless  toil.  The  wearied 
disciples  looked  at  it,  but  their  eyes  were  holden  that  they 
should  not  see.  At  last  a  well-known  voice  addresses 
them — "  Children."  Still  they  are  not  sure.  But  the  voice 
of  love  suggests,  '^  It  is  the  Lord."  Then  mindful  of  the 
respect  due  to  the  Master,  Peter  girds  on  him  his  fisher's 
coat,  and  heedless  now  of  the  dangers  of  the  sea  which  had 
once  shaken  his  faith,  casts  himself  into  the  waters.  At 
last  the  Saviour  is  here.  Here,  no  longer  to  be  doubted, 
appearing  in  the  path  of  duty.  Here,  as  the  gentle 
Master  who  had  long  since  rejected  all  harsher  titles  and 
adopted  that  of  "  Friends,"  and  now  calling  them  to  a  yet 
nearer  relation  as  "  Children."  No  wonder  that  at  that 
endearing  word  Peter  forgot  his  doubts  and  cast  himself 
headlong  into  the  sea.  No  wonder  that  he  could  not 
wait  to  clasp  that  loved  one  whom  he  had  denied,  and  of 
whose  forgiveness  he  yearned  to  be  convinced, 

So  is  it  with  every  one  who  tries  to  find  the  Saviour  in 
those  scenes  which  He  most  loved  to  haunt — the  uninviting 
round  of  duty.  In  vain  will  you  seek  him  in  the  loftier 
sphere  of  longing  ambition.  Down,  down  amid  those 
humble  duties  which  you  have  forced  upon  you  every  day 
— there  must  you  seek,  if  you  would  have  your  search 
crowned  with  success. 

My  hearer,  has  your  life  been  shaken  to  its  foundation 
by  the  loss  of  what  seemed  your  life  itself,  and  do  you  sit 
desolate  among  the  ruins  ?  Or  has  no  touch  from  Heaven 
ever  kindled  a  fire  on  the  altar  of  your  heart,  and  do  you 
wait  for  your  task  to  be  forced  upon  you  ? 

Go  forth  like  Peter,  and  do  what  lies  before  you.     Be- 


166       CHRIST   FOUND    IN   THE   PATH   OF   DAILY   DUTY. 

lieve  that  when  you  have  obeyed  the  voice  which  bids  you 
do  what  you  are  unwilling  to  do— to  enter  on  the  discharge 
of  duty  which  now  is  so  distasteful,  you  will  have  taken 
the  step  that  will  make  all  other  steps  easy.  Your  toil 
will  become  light  to  you,  for  there  is  a  wondrous  power  in 
the  consciousness  of  doing  our  duty  to  make  the  rough 
places  smooth. 

And,  as  all  good  is  linked  together  by  adamantine 
chains,  through  the  darkness  of  your  soul  will  grow 
clearer  and  clearer  the  form  of  the  Son  of  God.  He 
seemed  to  leave  you  to  yourself  that  He  might  try  your 
faith  :  when  it  has  come  out  of  the  ordeal  unscathed.  He 
will  return  to  you,  dearer  than  before,  a  thousand  times 
dearer,  because  you  will  know  that  He  looks  lovingly  upon 
you  as  a  soldier  who  has  fought  well,  as  a  servant  who  has 
done  his  duty,  as  a  friend  who  has  kept  his  friendship  pure, 
as  a  child  who  may  henceforth  repose  with  fearless  trust 
in  His  Father's  bosom. 


XIV. 

CONFIRMATION. 

SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

"  0  Lord  who  never  failest  to  help  and  govern  those  whom  Thou  dost 
bring  up  in  thy  steadfast  fear  and  love,  keep  us,  we  beseech  Thee, 
under  the  protection  of  Thy  good  providence,  and  make  us  to  have  a 
perpetual  fear  and  love  of  Thy  holy  name,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord." 

The  Collect  for  the  Second  Sunday  after  Trinity  will 
give  the  key-note  of  what  I  have  to  say.  It  seems  to  sum 
up  the  duties,  and  the  support  of  all  Christian  lives  so 
perfectly  that  it  may  with  fitness  guide  our  thoughts  on 
an  occasion  like  this.  For  to-day  we  have  with  us  our 
Father  in  God,  the  Bishop,  to  whom,  according  to  un- 
broken usage  since  the  Apostles'  days  in  the  Catholic 
Church,  it  belongs  regularly  to  admit  to  the  highest  privi- 
lege of  Christians  those  who  have  determined  to  profess 
the  faith  of  Christ  crucified.  About  every  occasion  of 
this  kind  there  is  something  which  strongly  impresses  the 
imagination.  The  religious  life,  as  I  devoutly  believe, 
has  truly  begun  in  the  case  of  those  whom  we  are  to-day 
to  welcome  to  a  full  participation  in  the  privileges  of  mem- 
bers of  the  Christian  Church.  We  do  not  reckon  the 
ancient  rite  of  confirmation  as  occupying  in  any  sense  the 
position  of  a  sacrament.  Grace,  we  hold,  is  not  communi- 
cated in  it  in  the  same  way  as  in  baptism,  and  the  Lord's 
Supper.     It  is  not  like  4hem  the  outward  and  visible  sign 

167 


168  CONFIRMATION  . 

of  an  inward  and  spiritual  grace  appointed  by  Christ 
Himself,  but  by  His  Apo'^^tles.  But  who  can  doubt  that' 
on  such  an  occasion  grace  is  divinely  conveyed  to  all  those 
who  come  forward  with  hearts  full  of  repentance,  of  faith, 
of  resolution  henceforward  to  live  such  a  life  as  is  pictured 
to  us  in  the  words  of  the  baptismal  office?  The  very 
business,  or  one  of  the  chief  duties  of  the  Christian  Church 
is  to  save  us  from  the  vagueness  and  indecision  which  are 
found  to  infect  the  lives  of  those  who  presume  to  forsake 
the  assembling  of  themselves  together.  We  cannot  live 
healthy,  religious  lives  unless  we  give  utterance  to  our 
religious  hopes  and  desires,  any  more  than  a  ship-wrecked 
man,  who  in  his  solitude  never  uses  the  divine  gift  of 
speech,  can,  when  long  years  are  passed,  retain  his  power 
to  utter  the  words  of  his  mother  tongue.  Such  a  means 
of  expressing  before  others,  and  to  Grod,  the  deep-seated 
feelings  connected  with  all  true  religion,  the  Church  sup- 
plies. In  the  baptism  of  infants  in  public,  how  deeply  is 
our  belief  strengthened  in  the  undeserved  and  mysterious 
grace  of  God  !  In  our  devout  reception  of  the  Holy  Com- 
munion, how  do  we  gain  year  by  year  in  our  reliance  upon 
the  never-failing  treasury  of  divine  strength  !  In  our 
ordinary  gatherings  for  public  worship  is  it  not  plain  to  us 
that  the  dew  of  God's  blessing  falls  far  more  largely  upon 
our  weary  hearts  than  it  could  were  we  presumptuously  to 
shut  ourselves  off  from  the  benefits  of  public,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  solitary,  private  prayer  ?  So,  too,  in  the 
solemn  ceremony  for  which  we  are  assembled.  In  the 
spectacle  of  immortal  souls  who  have  by  God's  grace  been 
brought  to  feel  the  need  of  buckUng  on  the  Christian 
armor,  in  the  sight  of  those  to  whom  the  promises  of  the 
Christian  warfare  are  about  to  become  the  watchword  of 


CONFIRMA.TIOJT.  169 

life,  you  will  see  the  exhibition  of  the  triumph  of  hurnm 
strength  aided  by  Grod,  over  the  temptations  of  the  World, 
the  FJesh,  and  the  Devil.  Than  that  spectacle,  earth  has 
nothing  which  ought  to  be  more  inspiring.  It  is  the  ex- 
pression iji  its  noblest  form  of  that  which  makes  us  ditFer 
from  the  brute.     It  is  the  well-weisihed  utterance  of  faith 

o 

in  the  truth  that  Holiness  is  strons^er  than  sin,  and  must 
be  the  final  conqueror.  It  is  the  proclamation,  not  before 
those  alone  who  gather  in  our  little  Church,  but  before  the 
Church  militant  and  the  Church  triumphant,  before  an 
innumerable  company  of  angels,  before  God,  the  Judge  of 
all,  that  these  souls  are  ready,  Grod  being  their  helpar,  to 
defy  the  powers  of  darkness,  and  to  make  themselves  an 
offering  to  Him.  Compared  with  this,  what  other  scene 
of  life  is  so  solemn,  so  absorbing  in  its  interest  ?  I  know 
of  none.  Even  that  last  scene  of  all,  when  our  feet  lose 
their  hold  on  the  familiar  ground  of  earthly  life,  and  we 
silently  pass  into  ihe  great  unknown  sea  of  being,  even 
this  derives,  to  Christian  eyes,  all  its  character  from  know- 
ing whether  or  not  the  promise  to  be  made  to-day  has 
been  kept.  As  we  accompany  along  their  path  of  life  these 
new  soldiers  of  Christ,  sorrow  and  joy,  trial  and  recom- 
pense, health  and  sickness,  all  the  manifold  triumphs  and 
reverses  of  human  life,  present  themselves  to  the  mind  as 
full  of  terror,  or  full  of  peace,  according  as  they  are,  or 
are  not,  in  the  spirit  of  obedience  to  the  profession  which 
shall  be  made  before  us  to-day. 

Taking  then  as  our  guide  the  beautiful  collect  I  have 
read,  let  us  try  to  gain  some  more  clear  notion  of  what  the 
Christian  life  may  be  and  ought  to  be.  Let  us  not  do  this 
in  a  spirit  of  sentimental  reverie,  but  as  a  very  grave 
thing;  not  as  though  the  most  experienced  Christian 
8 


170  CONFIRMATION. 

among  us  had  outgrown  the  need  of  having  his  aspirations 
raised,  and  his  aims  made  more  clear,  but  with  the  deep 
conviction  that  to  old  and  young  alike  the  great  truths 
which  make  up  our  Christian  life  are  ever  in  want  of  being 
quickened  into  fiesh  vigor,  and  made  more  strongly 
operative  upon  our  daily  existence. 

Beginning  with  the  first  part  of  our  Collect,  can  any  ot 
us  say  that  'his  experience  has  not  persuaded  him  of  the 
necessity  of  learning  over  and  over  again  the  truth  that 
God  never  fails  to  help  and  govern  those  whom  He  brings 
up  in  His  steadfast  fear  and  love  ?  That  combination  of 
fear  and  love— how  hard  is  it  to  maintain!  How  pecu- 
liarly apt  is  the  one  of  those  feelings  to  encroach  on  the 
other  !  Especially  in  this  loose-thinking,  sentimental  age 
when  men  are  given  to  fastening  on  some  one  portion  of 
divine  truth,  and  holding  it  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other, 
we  imperatively  demand  for  our  soul's  health  that  humble 
reverence  in  our  demeanor  to  God  which  is  the  soul  of  re- 
ligion. On  every  side,  I  seem  to  see  the  working  of  this 
irreverent  spirit.  In  every  body  of  Christians,  signs  are 
not  wanting  that  the  rounded  body  of  revealed  truth  in 
its  unflinching  utterance  of  the  terrible  along  with  the 
winning,  in  its  unhesitating  way  of  coupling  the  punish- 
ment of  the  unbeliever  with  the  blessedness  of  the  faithful, 
is  looked  upon,  not  as  the  august  and  severely  beautiful 
temple  built  by  God  for  the  indwelling  of  the  human  soul, 
but  rather  as  savages  regard  the  ruins  of  ancient  temples — 
a  quarry  whence  men,  unable  to  understand  what  they  are 
destroying,  may  plunder  materials  for  their  own  rude 
hovels.  This  I  am  sure  is  one  of  the  crying  evils  of  our 
times.  There  is  indeed  no  lack  of  interest  in  matters  re- 
ligious, either  at  home  or  aboaid.     Half  a  century  ago 


CONFIRMATION.  171 

men  would  have  laughed  incredulously  had  the  prophecy 
been  ventured  that  the  various  subjects  connected  with 
religion  would  become  a  theme  of  interest  so  profound  as 
that  w^hich  to-day  attends  the  host  of  books,  pamphlets, 
and  reviews  which  deal  with  them.  It  would  then  have 
seemed  one  of  the  wildest  vagaries  of  the  mind  of  man  to 
suppose  that  religion,  and  the  connection  between  Church 
and  State,  would  so  soon  become  the  most  critical  of  the 
questions  agitating  Europe.  But  all  the  more  is  it  need- 
ful that  Christians  should  be  on  their  guard  against  the 
dangers  with  wdiich  such  a  period  is  rife.  Much  of  what 
we  see  and  hear,  however  closely  it  may  be  connected  with 
Christianity  is  pervaded  by  a  deeply  unchristian  spirit. 
It  resembles  the  attempts  which  were  made  when  Chris- 
tianity first  took  before  the  Roman  Empire  the  position 
which  belongs  to  it — I  mean  the  attempts  to  rob  it  of  its 
foundation,  to  get  the  spirit  of  it  apart  from  the  re- 
vealed truths  which  beget  the  spirit,  and  try  to  be 
Christians  without  believing  in  Christ  as  the  Son  of  God, 
and  the  Saviour  of  the  world.  So  now,  every  one  of  us 
who  reads  or  talks  much  on  religious  matters  is  sure  to 
find  the  disposition  to  believe  as  much  of  Christianity  as 
suits  the  taste,  and  to  reject  the  rest.  What  is  Unitarian- 
ism  but  this,  under  whatever  name  it  disguises  itself  ?  We 
have  around  us  far  too  much  warning,  to  allow  us  any  ex- 
cuse if  we  venture  thus  to  trifle  with  revealed  truths.  And 
since  there  are  many  specious  kinds  of  this  disbelief,  and 
many  bewildering  varieties  in  the  expression  of  it,  we 
should  strive  to  make  it  our  principle  in  living  Christian 
lives,  to  keep  ourselves  in  such  steadfast  fear  and  love  of 
the  great  Teacher  of  our  souls,  as  may  fill  us  with  an  awful 
dread  of  casting  away  any  part  of  the  lesson  He  has  set 


172  CONFIRMATION. 

for  US  to  learn.  We  should  ask  Him  to  teach  us  so  per- 
fectly to  trust  His  love  that  we  may  be  content  to  leave 
for  Him  to  settle  all  the  dark  questions  that  some- 
times tempt  us  to  press  in  with  our  puny  fancies  upon 
the  mysterious  ground  where  God  alone  can  safely  tread. 
You  think  that  this  is  too  hard  a  thing  to  do  ?  You  say 
to  yourself  that  when  you  think  on  such  solemn  subjects 
as  conversion,  and  predestination,  and  eternal  death,  you 
must  trust  to  your  own  conclusions  no  matter  what  may 
be  the  consequences  ?  True  as  this  is  in  one  sense,  in  an- 
other it  betrays  just  the  lack  of  fear  and  love  which  I  have 
warned  you  against.  Those  questions  have  been  discussed 
in  many  centuries,  and  the  results  have  always  been  disas- 
trous just  in  proportion  to  the  irreverent  self-reliance 
which  has  been  "displayed.  Take,  for  instance,  that  pro- 
foundly mysterious  subject  of  predestination.  One  of  the 
most  powerful  minds  of  the  Eeformation  undertook  to 
settle  it,  to  map  out  with  distinctness  the  whole  subject ; 
and  what  was  the  consequence  ?  Look  at  New  England, 
and  you  can  answer.  The  terrible  consequences  of  this 
system  of  belief  are  apparent  in  the  total  rejection  of 
Christianity,  by  men  to  whom  Christianity  meant  distinctly 
that  from  all  eternity  God  had  predestinated  souls  to  eter- 
nal death,  and  that  Christ  died  only  for  a  limited  number 
of  the  elect.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  say  how  much  truth, 
and  how  much  untruth  there  may  be  in  the  system  of  Cal- 
vin. Far  be  it  from  me  to  say  that  there  is  not  a  vast 
number  of  noble  Christians  among  those  who  believe,  or 
think  they  believe,  it  all.  I  only  say  that  it  is  one  of  those 
subjects  about  which  we  should  be  most  reverent  in  our 
thinking,  —that  we  need  in  regard  to  it  peculiarly  to  ex- 
ercise together  the  fear  and  love  which  belong  to  the  wise 


CONFIRMATION.  173 

Christian,  that  our  speculations  concerning  it  are  specially 
apt  to  land  us  in  a  state  where  our  fear  will  be  supplanted 
by  irreverence,  and  our  love  by  a  feeling  which  makes  it 
impossible  for  us  heartily  to  cry,  Abba  Father ! 

But  still  you  ask  how  am  I  to  avoid  thinking  on  subjects 
like  these,  and  how  am  I  to  know  when  I  have  thought 
enough  ?  Is  it  not  asking  me  to  do  that  which  we  so  much 
object  to  in  the  Eomish  system,  to  submit  myself  to  the 
decisions  of  an  infallible  Church,  and  believe  what,  not  a 
Priest  indeed,  but  a  book  of  articles  bids  me  believe  ?  I  fully 
admit  the  difficulty  of  this  question.  It  is  one  to  which  no 
universally  applicable  reply  can  be  made.  But  it  is  one 
which  in  religious  matters  answers  itself,  just  as  similar 
questions  answer  themselves  in  common  life.  Is  it  likely 
that  you  will  ever  come  to  regard  suicide  as  a  praiseworthy 
act  ?  If  not,  why  not  ?  You  may,  if  you  choose,  reflect 
on  the  matter — you  may  look  upon  it  in  all  its  lights  —you 
may  contemplate  all  the  advantages  likely  to  flow  from  a 
man's  ridding  himself  of  the  pains  of  incurable  disease,  or 
the  anguish  of  irremediable  disgrace.  Men  do,  or  pretend 
that  they  do,  see  that,  on  the  whole,  suicide  is  sometimes 
a  very  noble  and  admirable  way  of  terminating  one's  career. 
Do  you  feel  any  apprehension  that  your  reflections  will 
ever  lead  you  to  cut  your  throat  ?  We  have  all,  I  suppose, 
had  the  notion  flit  across  our  minds  in  seasons  of  acute, 
bodily,  or  mental  anguish.  But  do  you  feel  the  slight- 
est danger  that  in  your  own  case  you  will  ever  be 
led  to  the  crime  ?  The  reason  is  a  very  simple  one. 
The  natural,  instinctive  love  of  life  has  been  so  fortified  by 
our  training,  that  we  do  not  allow  our  thoughts  on  the 
subject  to  go  beyond  a  certain,  curious  speculation.  We 
are   not   conscious   of    peremptorily   cutting    short    our 


174  CONFIRMATION. 

thoughts  about  it,  but  the  result  is  just  the  same  as  tliough 
we  did.  In  that  respect,  we  Americans,  in  general,  at 
least,  are  in  no  danger  so  long  as  our  minds  remain  in 
their  proper  balance.  And  yet,  from  causes  opposed  to 
this,  among  foreigners  of  some  nationalities  it  is  not  un- 
common. 

Apply  this,  which  I  do  not  select  at  random,  to  the  re- 
ligious life.  No  man  who  has  at  all  understood  what 
Christianity  and  Christ  are,  can  deliberately  discuss  with 
himself  the  question  whether  he  shall  or  shall  not  continue 
to  believe  in  God.  There  may  be  moments  when  one  whom 
duty  forces  to  consider  the  attacks  of  unbelief,  or  more 
often  in  the  case  of  one  who  has  dallied  with  infidelity  out 
of  mere  idle  curiosity,  when  such  an  one  feels  himself 
tempted  to  doubt  of  everything.  But  the  question  must 
have  been  pretty  well  settled  already,  when  one  allows 
one's  self  to  discuss  the  matter  deliberately  and  coolly. 
For  to  give  up  one's  faith  in  Cod  means  to  commit 
suicide  of  the  soul,  so  far  as  that  is  within  our  power.  In 
the  great  number  of  Christians,  even  among  those  who 
think  much  about  these  deep  matters,  the  danger  of  such 
an  act  depends  upon  the  closeness  or  slackness  of  the  union 
and  intercourse  which  is  kept  up  with  God — in  the  words 
of  our  Collect,  upon  our  steadfast  or  our  wavering  fear  and 
love.  Only  when  we  have  grown  cold  in  devotion,  only 
when  we  have  suffered  the  cloud  of  indifference  to  gather 
between  us  and  God  are  we  in  any  peril.  That  which  is 
true  of  total  abandonment  of  faith  is  true  likewise  reojard- 
ing  those  partial  desertions  of  the  truth  of  Christianity 
of  which  I  have  spoken. 

God  never  fails  to  help  and  govern  those  who  allow  Ilim 
to  bring  them  up  in   steadfast  fear  and  love.     Trace  back 


CONFIRMATION.  175 

any  one  dark  period  of  your  religious  life  to  its  origin,  and 
yuu  will  find  that  it  is  due  to  the  wilful  abandonment  of 
His  governance  over  you — to  your  letting  lower  motives 
sway  you,  such  as  cowardice  or  indolence,  or  what  is  called 
in  Scripture  the  spirit  of  the  world.  Here  it  is— here,  and 
not  in  any  forcible  choking  down  of  our  liberty  of  think- 
ing, that  we  find  the  safeguard  against  letting  go  the  faith. 
The  daily  growth  of  the  soul  in  grace  lets  in  gleam  after 
gleam  of  light  upon  the  questions  which  otherwise  are  so 
apt  to  puzzle  us.  You  do  not  consciously  say,  I  will  not 
think  upon  this  or  that  dark  question  ;  you  are  penetrated 
more  and  more  deeply  with  the  feeling  that  there  are 
heights  and  deeps  of  spiritual  truth  which  can  be  disclosed 
to  your  strengthening  eyesight  only  little  by  little.  You 
cannot  put  into  definite  words  your  growing  feeling  about 
predestination,  or  the  atonement,  or  the  workings  of  divine 
grace.  But  you  are  less  and  less  tempted,  and  why  ?  be- 
cause with  the  increasing  sense  of  His  help  and  govern- 
ance, there  comes  the  feeling  that  sublime  mysteries  like 
these  are  not  capable  of  being  put  into  the  meagre  forms 
of  human  speech.  They  become,  not  dry,  colorless  beliefs, 
but  convictions — as  little  expressible  in  the  fullness  of 
their  heavenly  light  and  meaning,  as  is  your  affection  to 
your  child  when  he  asks  you  how  much  you  love  him,  as 
though  the  multiplication  table  were  amply  sufficient 
to  tell  it  all. 

I  seem  perhaps  to  have  made  as  far  too  much  of  our 
Christian  beliefs  as  I  have  said  the  disposition  is  to  make 
too  little.  But  the  truth  is,  belief  and  life  are  only 
two  expressions,  inward  and  outward,  of  one  and  the  same 
thing.  Belief  is  impossible  in  its  only  valuable  meanings 
without  a  corresponding  life  :  life  needs  belief  to  shape  and 


176  CONFIRMATION. 

guide  it.     I  do  not  say  merely  that  one  is  worthless  in  the 
total  absence  of  the  other.    It  cannot  he. 

When  you  feel  that  your  Christian  life  is  at  its  best, 
you  may,  if  you  choose,  feel  its  intimate  connection  with 
the  belief,  as  the  highest  state  of  bodily  health  does  not  do 
away  with  the  functions  of  the  heart  and  lungs,  but  de- 
pends on  their  proper  discharge.     Unless  you  put  your 
hand  upon  your  heart  you  may  forget  that  you  have  one 
but  if  it  be  disordered,  a  very  slight  amount  of  exertion 
tells  you  unmistakably  of  its  diseased  state.  From  the  simi- 
lar relation  of  belief  to  spiritual  life  it  comes,  that  in  all  ages 
that  have  been  distinguished  by  active  religious  vitality, 
so  much  stress  has  been  laid  upon  correctness  of  faith,  or 
to  use  a  word  which  seems  just  now  to  be  in  rather  bad 
odor,  upon  orthodoxy.     And  it  needs  but  very  little  in- 
spection to  see  that  where  orthodoxy  is  most  decried,  there 
is  generally  to  be  found  a  corresponding  indifference  to  the 
sublimest  privileges  of  religion.     Personal  piety,  charity, 
genuine  delight  in  prayer,  in  personal  efforts  for  the  in- 
struction and  bodily  comfort  of  the  destitute,  faith,  humble 
submission  to  God's  dispensations,  and  the  general   and 
evident  moulding  of  the  life  by  heavenly  motives, — I  ask 
any  one  whether  these  are  found  most  among  those  who 
reverently  believe  in  all  the  doctrines  of  the  Church,  or 
among  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  talking  as  though 
orthodoxy  were  rather  another  word  for  narrow-minded- 
ness.    If  such  a  connection  were  really  to  be  between  the 
welcoming  of  all  that  God  has  revealed  and  a  working  out 
of  all  that  He  has  commanded,  I  need  no  further  grounds 
for  my  urging  both  on  those  who  arc  Churchmen  already, 
and  on  those  who  are  to-day  to  be  admitted  to  the  Church's 
highest  privileges,  the  solemn  duty  of  so  fearing  God  as  to 


CONFIRMATION.  177 

receive  with  devout  awe  His  disclosures  of  Himself,  and  so 
loving  Him,  as  to  trust  in  His  hands  the  wise  and  merci- 
ful deciding  of  questions  too  hard  for  us  to  settle.  The 
Collect  closes  with  a  petition  that  we  may  be  kept  under 
the  protection  of  His  good  Providence.  For  twelve  hun- 
dred years  at  least,  this  prayer  has  gone  up  from  mouths 
of  Christians.  During  the  darkest  periods  of  the  Church's 
history — amid  persecution  and  warfare,  in  private  doubt, 
in  trial,  in  anxiety,  it  has  resounded  under  the  arches  of 
old  Cathedrals  as  it  resounds  now  in  the  huts  which  serve 
to  shelter  God's  people  in  the  western  wilds,  Can  we  not 
picture  to  ourselves  the  peace  which  for  all  these  centuries 
has  been  imparted  by  the  view  of  life  given  us  in  that  one 
word,  protection  ?  Surely  the  holy  man  who  penned  it 
first,  must  have  been  one  who  after  toil  and  storm  at 
length  had  reached  a  purer  air.  Who  can  estimate  the 
experience  of  him  whose  instinctive  way  of  thinking  about 
Providence,  was  not  of  a  succession  of  trials  and  discipline, 
sorely  taxing  strength  and  faith,  but  rather  a  divinely 
wrought  shield,  sheltering  God's  chosen,  and  only  nourish- 
ing to  fuller  life  the  love  and  fear  of  His  holy  name? 

The  finest  bloom  and  fragrance  of  the  human  soul  went, 
one  cannot  doubt,  to  the  composition  of  this  exquisite 
prayer.  How  can  one  ever  sufficiently  thank  the  Church's 
Head  and  Master,  for  inspiring  and  preserving  these 
choicest  utterances  of  His  saints  throughout  centuries ! 
And  yet  amidst  the  thanksgivings  which  we  raise  to  Him 
for  our  Liturgy,  let  us  never  forget  our  own  higher  obliga- 
tions to  preserve  and  show  forth  as  the  result  of  His  deal- 
ings with  the  Church,  a  piety  which  shall  be  worthy  of  such 
prayers.  That  alone  is  worthy  of  him  who  has  learned  by 
heart  the  difficult   lesson  set  before  us  in  the  use  of  the 

8* 


178  CONFIRMATION. 

words  to  which  I  have  just  called  your  attention.  It  is 
the  most  appropriate  lesson  with  which  to  end  an  address 
to  persons  beginning  the  professed  Christian  life — that  of 
so  ordering  our  lives  that  we  may  have  this  as  the  un- 
shakable foundation  for  them, — that  God's  Providence  is 
one  of  protection.  So  will  it  always  manifest  itself  to 
him,  who  will  make  the  fear  and  love  of  Grod's  holy  name 
his  constant  companions. 

All  the  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal  life  are  to 
him,  but  manifestations  of  God's  abounding  love.  All  the 
calamities  which  human  life  brings  with  it,  are  changed  by 
that  habitual  temper  into  loving  discipline.  He  learns  to 
sun  himself  in  the  light  of  that  eternal  judgment  which  in 
Scripture  is  so  nobly  displayed  to  us  as  but  the  unchang- 
ing manifestation  of  God's  truthfulness.  And  thus  strength- 
ened, and  purified,  and  protected  by  His  good  Providence, 
he  so  passes  through  things  temporal  that  he  finally  loses 
not  the  things  eternal.  May  this  day  be  such  a  beginning 
of  endless  life  to  those  who  are  to  join  us  in  fighting  the 
good  fight  of  faith. 


XV. 

CHARITY  AND   ITS    ABUSES. 

I  SUPPOSE  that  no  reflecting  person  can  doubt,  that  we 
are  in  this  part  of  the  country  doing  all  we  can  to  create 
a  real  class  of  paupers — of  professional  beggars,  unwilling 
to  work,  spending  the  pleasanter  part  of  the  year  in  prowl- 
ing through  the  land,  and  in  winter  leading  lives  of  crime 
at  large  or  of  indolence  in  the  poor-houses.  Those  who 
regard  the  matter  with  attention  proportioned  to  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  evil,  are  beginning  to  feel  that  some  organ- 
ized means  must  be  adopted  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  a 
disease  shown  by  the  experience  of  other  countries  to  be 
full  of  danger  to  society  at  large,  and  of  incalculable  in- 
jury to  the  persons  who  are  continually  tempted  to  enroll 
themselves  for  life  in  this  ragged  army  of  criminals.  At- 
tempts have  been  made  here  and  there,  to  deal  with  the 
evil  by  law,  and  to  authorize  the  arrest  and  confinement 
at  hard  labor,  of  persons  found  wandering  through  the 
country,  with  no  better  means  of  livelihood  than  beggary. 
Such  interference  with  liberty,  running,  as  it  does,  the 
risk  of  unjustly  confining  persons  travelling  on  foot  for  the 
most  worthy  purposes,  cannot,  of  course,  be  defended  in  this 
shape.  Perhaps  no  legal  measures  can  be  expected  ever 
adequately  to  deal  with  the  evil.  And  it  certainly  is  not 
with  the  object  of  suggesting  any  thing  of  that  description 
that  I  introduce  the  subject  now ;  but  rather  that  we  may 
consider  together  some  of  its  aspects  as  they  concern  our- 

179 


180  CHARITY    AKB   ITS   ABUSES. 

selves  as  individuals  and  as  Christians,  the  duty  incumbent 
upon  us  in  that  capacity,  the  discouragements  perpetually 
arising  in  connection  with  its  discharge,  and  what  we  have, 
and  have  not,  the  right  to  look  for,  in  due  compliance 
with  Christ's  commands  regarding  the  relief  of  human 
want. 

It  must  be  apparent  that  in  a  country  like  our  own,  un- 
der ordinary  circumstances,  there  can  be  no  good  reason 
why  a  class  of  beggars  should  exist.  Exceptional  cases, 
of  course,  there  will  always  be — cases  where  temporary 
sickness,  or  the  death  of  the  father  of  a  family  may  justify 
an  appeal  for  relief  until  the  first  stress  of  want  is  passed, 
or,  even  permanently,  where  health  is  hopelessly  gone, 
and  the  only  alternative  is  starvation  or  the  poor-house. 
But  these  are  exceptions.  The  evil  I  speak  of  is  of  much 
larger  proportions — proportions  with  which  we  are  every 
day  made  familiar.  It  offers  itself,  perhaps  more  striking- 
ly during  a  period  of  business  depression,  but  not  so  very 
much  more  than  in  the  years  of  unhealthy  prosperity,  un- 
der the  form  of  numbers  of  strong  men  presenting  them- 
selves for  relief,  and  relief  in  the  shape  of  money.  Those 
who  have  paid  personal  attention  to  such  appeals  are 
aware  that  year  after  year  the  same  individuals  in  groups 
easily  recognizable,  present  themselves  at  certain  seasons, 
always  with  much  the  same  piteous  tale.  These  persons 
become  professional  vagabonds  during  the  warmer  months, 
encamping  in  the  woods  and  levying  tribute  upon  the  de- 
cent classes  of  society  by  begging  and  steaUng,  or  in  colder 
weather,  by  burglary.  Now  such  a  state  of  things  may 
seem  to  one  nothing  worse  than  annoying,  and  hardly 
worth  bestowing  upon  it  more  than  a  passing  regret.  But 
it  is  by  neglecting  the  rise  of  such  a  social  phenomenon, 


CHARITY   AND   ITS   ABUSES.  181 

and  by  treating  the  evil  improperly,  that  in  European 
countries  has  been  formed  a  pauper  class,  handing  down 
from  father  to  son  those  habits  of  depredation  and  depend- 
ence, with  the  principle  of  self-respect  utterly  killed  out  of 
them,  and,  in  the  course  of  generations,  becoming  almost 
incapable  of  being  raised  from  their  condition  of  hostility 
to  all  the  restraints  necessary  to  make  up  human  society. 
It  is  such  a  class  which,  when  congregated  in  a  city,  al- 
ways furnishes  by  far  the  largest  portion  of  the  mobs  that 
destroy  life  and  property,  and  jeopard  the  best  interests  of 
the  community.  It  is  such  outcasts  who  made  up,  largely, 
the  insurgents  of  Paris  in  the  first  Revolution,  and  during 
the  late  reign  of  the  Commune.  And,  as  I  began  by  re- 
marking, instead  of  wisely-concerted  measures  for  check- 
ing its  growth,  we  are  weakly  fostering  it  as  far  as  negli- 
gence, and  culpable  laxity  in  giving  can  do  so. 

Looking  at  the  matter  from  this  point  of  view,  can  any 
one  say  that  the  subject  is  not  of  the  gravest  practical 
moment,  whether  regarded  with  the  eyes  of  a  statesman, 
a  philanthropist,  or  a  lover  of  his  country.  And  no  less 
grave  than  the  evil  is  the  responsibility  of  those  who  un- 
thinkingly aggravate  it.  If  we  are  so  acting  as  to  stimu- 
late the  growth  of  such  a  social  disease,  we  surely  need 
only  to  become  aware  of  it  in  order  to  feel  that  we  are 
bound  to  reconsider  our  course,  and  to  adopt  one  that 
shall  benefit  the  objects  of  our  charity,  but  at  the  same 
time  be  a  true  carrying  out  of  our  Lord's  loving  com- 
mands. 

For  after  all,  this  last  consideration,  in  this  place,  and 
to  those  who  come  here  for  sincerely  religious  purposes, 
must  be  the  most  important  of  all  to  settle.  Incalculable 
as  is  the  importance  of  other  objects  aff'ectod  by  this  ques- 


182  CHARITY    AND    ITS    ABUSES. 

tion —valuable  as  are  the  interests  of  society— we  should 
feel  that  the  true  following  out  of  Christ's  bidding  must  be 
in  itself  more  so  still.  We  might  be  led  by  looking  Tnere- 
ly  at  the  social  side  of  the  matter  to  the  conclusion,  so 
heartlessly  avowed  by  some,  that  the  interests  of  society 
on  the  whole  are  best  served  by  refusing  all  relief,  under 
all  circumstances,  and  leaving  the  world  to  be  freed  by 
death  from  persons  whose  condition  shows  them  to  be  use- 
less to  advance  its  welfare ;  and  yet,  however  swayed  his 
mind  might  be  by  presentation  of  such  a  doctrine,  every 
Christian  would  feel  that  there  must  be  some  fatal  mistake 
in  a  course  of  reasoning  so  completely  opposed  to  the  ut- 
terances of  the  Son  of  God. 

Let  us  then,  having  begun  by  thinking  of  its  worst  form, 
seek  for  the  fountain-head  of  this  alarming  evil,  and  try 
to  shape  to  ourselves  a  consistent  notion  of  what  our 
course  should  be.  For  harm  may  be  done,  not  simply  when 
dealing  with  that  peculiarly  dangerous,  and  one  might 
almost  say,  organized  body  of  mendicants  of  whom  I  began 
by  speaking,  but  also  when  ministeriug  to  the  needs  of  others, 
so  far  much  superior  to  them.  We  may,  by  rightly  gradu- 
ating and  adapting  our  charities,  make  a  means  of  religious 
influence  of  a  high  order,  or  by  thoughtlessness,  impair 
the  spirit  of  self-dependence,  without  which,  it  is  hardly 
too  much  to  say,  no  fine,  or  Christian  character  can  exist ; 
and  thus  even  prepare  those  whom  we  mean  to  benefit  for 
enrolling  themselves  in  that  very  host  of  professional 
beggars  whose  dangers  I  have  pointed  out. 

The  main  point  for  us  to  settle  is  whether  private,  indi- 
vidual alms-giving  is  a  permissible  form  for  our  charity 
to  take;  and  if  so,  what  shape  it  should  assume.  By  per- 
missible, of  course,  I  mean,  calculated  to  do  lasting  nnd  real 


CHARITY    AND    ITS    ABUSES.  183 

good.  And  much  is  here  to  be  said  on  both  sides.  Un- 
questionably such  action  is  exposed  to  considerable  danger 
of  the  kind  just  referred  to.  No  one  much  acquainted  with 
such  matters  need  be  told  of  the  vast  amount  of  imposture 
that  finds  in  private  charity  a  soil  in  which  it  thrives 
luxuriantly.  Appeals  to  various  individuals  at  the  same 
time,  and  the  receipt  of  aid  from  each,  frequently  make 
pretended  poverty  the  means  of  getting  a  comfortable 
livelihood.  When  again,  the  giver's  feelings  are  not  con- 
trolled by  judgment,  the  motive  to  exertion  on  the  part  of 
the  person  relieved  is  often  weakened  and  at  last  completely 
killed.  Both  of  these  are  instances  from  which  it  might 
seem  proper  to  conclude  that  the  best  way  of  giving  would 
be  to  put  one's  alms  into  the  hands  of  some  person  or  per- 
sons whose  special  business  it  should  be  to  investigate  each 
case  as  it  arises,  and  who  from  occupying  this  position  would 
be  guarded  by  a  feeling  of  responsibility  from  excessive 
giving.  And  in  the  city,  I  doubt  not,  ver^  largely,  and  to  a 
considerable  degree  in  the  country,  this  is  a  proper  course 
to  pursue.  But  to  resort  to  it  wholly  is  a  plan  open  to  very 
serious  objections.  One  of  the  greatest  uses  of  charity  is 
that  it  creates,  when  properly  conducted,  a  bond  of  true 
sympathy  between  the  giver  and  the  person  relieved  which 
is  admirable  in  its  effects  on  both.  One  who  visits  and 
relieves  the  fatherless  and  the  widow  in  their  affliction  is 
greatly  helped  thereby  in  obedience  to  the  injunction 
that  follows — to  keep  himself  unspotted  from  the  world. 
The  sight  of  human  suffering,  looked  at  with  a  Christian 
eye,  helps  one  better  to  estimate  the  difficulties  with  which 
a  large  proportion  of  mankind,  in  one  form  or  another,  have 
to  struggle.  It  deepens  one's  sense  of  un worthiness ;  it 
can  hardly  fail  to  check  selfishness,  and  abate  the  disposi- 


184  CHARITY    AND   ITS   ABUSES. 

tioii  to  personal  indulgence  which  is  one  of  the  most  dis- 
quieting symptoms  of  our  times.  When  suffering  is 
patiently  and  manfully  borne,  it  supplies  us  with  examples 
the  most  eloquent  to  help  us  in  conquering  discontent 
and  cultivating  a  deep  and  cheerful  spirit  of  piety.  And 
for  the  benefit  of  the  sufferer  it  is  of  untold  value.  The 
official  almoner  or  dispenser  of  other's  charities,  however 
sympathizing  he  may  be,  or  however  generous  in  quietly 
giving  of  his  own  means,  will  lose  with  many,  at  least 
something  of  his  due  influence  from  being  in  that  position. 
The  most  valuable  means  of  improving  both  yourself 
and  those  whom  you  would  benefit  is  to  see  and  know 
them  yourself ;  to  have,  and  to  manifest  a  personal  interest 
in  their  welfare.  This  will  give  you  the  opening  for  ad- 
vice, for  consolation,  for  enlightening  ignorance,  and  im- 
parting those  large  and  elevated  views  of  Christianity 
which  do  not  come  in  general  under  such  circumstances, 
save  from  the  outside — from  persons  whose  superior  know- 
ledge has  enabled  them  to  divine  the  truth  about  many 
matters  which  to  ignorance  are  dark  and  burdensome. 

There  is  another  reason  too,  which  makes  of  this  form 
of  charity  a  peculiarly  valuable  means  of  furthering  our 
own  spiritual  growth.  You  remember,  how  after  his  ship- 
wreck on  the  island  of  Melita,  while  the  shivering  crew 
and  the  inhabitants  of  the  isle  were  kindling  a  fire,  St. 
Paul  while  working  with  them  was  bitten  by  a  viper  and 
was  expected  to  fall  dead.  Some  similar  recompense  of 
our  Christian  activity  we  often  meet  with,  and  in  it  lies 
one  of  the  chief  advantages  of  this  course  of  discipline 
which  I  have  called  private  charity.  When  one  has 
practised  it,  it  often  becomes  so  attractive  that  we  are  in 
danger  of  forgetting  the  lofty  end  which  is  its  chief  rea- 


CHARITY   AND    ITS   ABUSES.  185 

son,  and  sometimes  even  lose  sight  of  other  duties  in 
the  pleasure  afforded  by  the  discharge  of  this.  Some 
of  the  most  telling,  and  yet  most  truthful  of  the  pictures 
of  a  famous  novelist  are  those  which  delineate  the  spiritual 
pride  or  the  utter  neglect  of  the  most  sacred  duties  some- 
times resulting  from  excessive  abandonment  to  philan- 
thropic or  charitable  work.  Every  one  is  familiar  with  the 
feeding  produced  by  meeting  with  ingratitude  and  selfish- 
ness^ or  worse,  among  those  who  have  been  carefully  and 
kindly  treated — the  feeling  almost  of  personal  affliction 
engendered  by  the  discovery  of  one's  titter  deception  in  a 
character  hitherto  held  in  affectionate  esteem.  Painful  as 
this  is  when  one's  efforts  have  been  distinctly  and  really 
made  from  a  feeling  of  duty,  and  when  pleasure  has  not 
been  aimed  at  by  itself,  the  shock  is  greater  yet  when  the 
latter  has  unconsciously  thrust  itself  forward,  and  we  have 
been  blindly  following  our  own  impulses.  It  is  under 
these  circumstances  that  most  harm  is  done.  The  gratifi- 
cation of  a  generous  nature  is  so  great  when  suffering  is 
relieved,  that  unless  checked  by  a  very  stern  sense  of 
responsibility,  it  is  very  apt  indeed  to  lead  to  such  a  liber- 
ality as  produces  the  consequences  before  adverted  to  as 
harmful  in  a  high  degree.  And  not  merely  material  gifts 
are  liable  to  do  this  evil.  The  unregulated  feelings  are, 
if  possible,  still  more  liable  to  mislead,  when,  not  food  and 
clothing,  and  the  outward  necessaries  of  life,  but  comfort 
and  sympathy  are  given  to  those  who  really  need,  for  their 
own  good,  wholesome  rebuke,  or  warning  against  discon- 
tent, or  lessons  of  frugality  from  neglect  of  which  their 
trouble  comes.  In  this  way,  instead  of  doing  good,  we 
may  be  encouraging  the  grossest  forms  of  spiritual 
disease, — pride,  ingratitude,  a  disposition  to  grumble  at 


186  CHARITY    AND    ITS    ABUSES. 

not  being  as  well-to-do  as  is  wished,  and  particularly,  the 
fatal  vice  of  hypocrisy,  pretending  to  high  spiritual  at- 
tainments when,  in  reality,  there  is  not  even  common 
moralit}^  to  be  found.  Every  one,  I  say,  is  more  or  less 
familiar  with  this  experience ;  and,  as  matters  stand  with 
us,  painful  as  it  is,  perhaps  it  is  needed  from  time  to  time 
in  order  to  remind  us  of  the  real  nature  and  ground  of  the 
duty  in  whose  discharge  we  encounter  it,  and  particularly, 
to  enforce  the  need  of  that  rigid  insp3ction  of  our  methods 
without  which  we  are  so  likely  to  do  more  harm  than 
good.  As  to  the  former  point,  certainly,  here  as  elsewhere, 
pleasure  very  pure  and  great  is  conjoined  with  the  proper 
discharge  of  duty.  But  when  pleasure,  consciously  or 
unconsciously,  assumes  too  much  importance,  it  is  apt 
to  prevent,  and  finally  to  destroy,  the  usefulness  of 
our  efforts  thus  tainted  by  selfishness.  This  displays 
itself  in  quarters  the  most  unlooked  for.  Self-denial, 
that  is  in  its  severer  forms,  yields  high  and  serene 
pleasure;  but  do  we  not  know  how  often  it  leads  to 
spiritual  pride — how  even  religious  exercises,  practised  to 
the  nejD;lect  of  less  delightsome  duties,  make  us  uncharitable, 
and  inclined  to  underrate  the  godliness  of  others  ?  So  here. 
Instances  are  not  unknown  where  utter  devotion  to  a 
charitable  work,  accompanied  by  an  undue  pride  in  it,  has 
rendered  an  active  philanthropist  blind  not  only  to  Chris- 
tian kindness  but  even  to  the  ordinary  proprieties  of  life. 
Such  cases,  of  course,  are  rare,  but  probably,  rare  only 
because  the  pleasure  derived  from  such  activities  has  not 
been  suff'ered  to  grow  too  important  an  object.  Wherever 
though,  this  does  take  place,  to  even  a  slight  degree,  there 
is  the  need  of  disappointments  to  disturb  our  self-satisfac- 
tion and  bend  our  attention  once  more  to  the  true  object 
and  plan  of  the  duty. 


CHARITY   AND   ITS   ABUSES.  187 

"When  thus  violently  and  painfully  aroused  to  the  mis- 
takes we  have  made,  we  naturally  turn  to  the  task  of  pro- 
vidino:  aa-ainst  them  for  the  future.  We  remember  that 
the  great  purpose  should  be,  not  merely,  and  for  itself, 
making  people  happy  and  comfortable,  for  the  time  being, 
but  so  relieving  them  as  to  work  lasting  good  to  their 
characters.  That  great  army  of  idle  vagabonds  which  we 
considered  at  the  outset,  are  seen,  under  the  light  of  such 
experiences  as  these,  to  be  but  the  natural  and  inevitable 
outgrowth  of  unthinking  and  ill-regulated  private  charity. 
If  we  try  only  to  relieve  temporary  want  we  lay  the  foun- 
dation of  that  superstructure  of  delusions  which  finds  its 
logical  result  in  Communism — the  belief  that,  indepen- 
dently of  his  own  qualifications,  his  character,  his  industry, 
his  thrift,  every  man  has  a  right  to  be  supported  in  com- 
fort: — to  sum  up  in  a  word,  that  in  the  phrase  of  Proud- 
hon,  ''  private  property  is  itself  robbery."  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  I  have  little  or  no  doubt  that  our  professional 
vagrants  have  reached  their  present  numbers  from  finding 
it  easier  to  beg  or  steal  than  to  work,  and  for  them  vastly 
more  comfortable ;  and  that  they  are  the  offspring,  largely, 
of  persons  whose  self-respect  has  been  destroyed  in  the 
same  way.  Whether  this  be  so  or  not,  however,  it  is 
manifest  that  instead  of  diminishing,  this  dangerous  and 
wretched  class  will  increase,  if  the  causes  producing  it  go 
on  unchecked.  Let  us  look  to  our  methods  and  see  if  they 
cannot  be  mended. 

As  regards  the  vagrant  class  our  duty  is  pretty  clear. 
On  the  whole  perhaps,  we  do  much  harm  by  supplying  even 
with  food  a  class  which  is  led  to  spend  half  the  year  in 
vagrancy  by  knowing  that  it  can  obtain  regular  nourish- 
ment.     And   yet  there   is  the  risk  of  perhaps    denying 


188  CHAPJTY    AKD    ITS   ABUSES. 

to  a  really  needy  person  food  that  is  necessary  for  the  sup- 
port of  life;  and  with  proper  vigilance  that  our  bounty  is 
not  thrown  away,  we  may  feel  safe  in  obeying  this  instinct 
of  the  heart.  As  ior  any  money  assistance  it  is,  under  al- 
most all  circumstances,  likely  to  do  harm  to  persons  of  this 
class.  Money  so  procured  is  used  in  most  cases  for  the 
worst  purposes,  and  to  give  it  is  a  direct  encouragement  to 
indolence  and  to  vice.  Now  and  then,  of  course,  a  case 
will  present  itself  where  you  may  venture  to  believe  the 
piteous  story  told  you,  and  act  accordingly ;  but  in  general, 
every  one  should  feel  that  by  giving  money  to  unknown 
beggars,  he  is  not  merely  wasting  it  but  committing  a 
crime  against  society,  and  fostering  the  growth  of  a  class 
of  persons  whose  existence  is  a  standing  menace  against  it. 
Ask  yourself  for  an  instant  what  means  may  be  looked  to 
for  the  conversion  into  decent  members  of  society  of  these 
stalwart  beggars,  for  their  learning  habits  of  industry  and 
thrift,  for  their  becoming  amenable  to  any  elevating  influ- 
ences. It  is  plain  tliat  regular  settled  habitations  are  al- 
most the  first  necessary  thing  in  the  process,  then,  enforced 
self-support.  Enforce  it  we  cannot  directly,  but  we  may 
indirectly,  by  rendering  it  impossible,  so  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned, to  obtain  a  living  by  merely  asking  for  it.  When 
once  it  shall  be  plain  to  this  wretched  and  at  present, 
hopelessly  degraded  class,  that  their  present  means  of 
existence  will  no  longer  suffice,  they  will  do  one  of  two 
things: — they  will  plunder  openly  or  they  will  work.  And 
observe  this :  always  it  has  turned  out  that  if  they  were 
not  thus  forced  to  support  themselves  when  comparatively 
few  in  numbers,  they  have  proved  impossible  to  control 
after  growing  stronger.  We  have  dealt  too  loosely  with  a 
serious  social  danger.     It  is  our  bounden  duty  to  dally 


CHARITY   AND   ITS   ABUSES.  189 

with  it  no  longer,  but  to  treat  it  on  principle,  system- 
atically, because  we  thereby  best  follow  the  spirit  of  Christ's 
own  bidding.  And  when  we  have  thus  convinced  ourselves 
of  the  seriousness  of  the  evil,  we  shall  be  prepared  to  un- 
derstand, and  intelligently  to  support,  whatever  public 
measures  may  be  proposed.  First  of  all  however,  must  be 
private  conviction,  and  loyalty  to  it. 

As  for  the  methods  according  to  which  we  are  to  con- 
duct our  ordinary  charities  towards  persons  whom  we 
know,  the  pointing  out  of  the  evils  flowing  from  the  wrong 
course  will  naturally  suggest  them.  The  first  thing  to  be 
settled,  I  presume,  must  be  a  strong  desire  for  the  lasting 
good  of  the  person  relieved.  Now  trouble,  we  know,  is 
nothing  but  one  form  of  divine  discipline,  and  it  is  always  to 
be  remembered  in  the  discharge  of  this  duty  that  we  are 
doing  wrong  and  harm,  not  good,  by  encouraging  in  any 
way  the  spirit  of  discontent  to  which  such  discipline  com- 
monly gives  rise.  A  provision  of  the  necessaries  of  life, 
and  yet  the  most  careful  training  of  whatever  desire  for 
self-support  may  exist ;  a  most  jealous  and  watchful  care 
that  that  back-bone  of  character,  self-respect,  be  not  weak- 
ened ;  eagerness  rather  to  see  habits  and  faculties  of  mind 
and  body  acquired  for  future  use,  than  simply  to  relieve 
passing  wants  of  the  body ; — these  should  be  the  general 
type  according  to  which  we  should  do  our  part  as  stew- 
ards of  the  manifold  blessings  of  God. 

On  account  of  both  giver  and  receiver,  there  must  be 
watchfulness  on  the  benefactor's  part  that  his  feelings  do 
not  carry  him  into  a  misunderstanding  of  the  facts  of  the 
case.  In  many  of  the  instauces,  especially  in  a  great  city, 
where  relief  is  needed,  the  character  has  already  sunk 
under  some  of  the  manifold  evil  influences  of  the  situation. 


190  '      CHARITY    AND    ITS   ABUSES. 

Very  often  indeed,  faults  of  the  meanest  kind  have  flour- 
ished under  the  fostering  influence  of  continuous  de- 
pendence on  others  for  support.  We  are  guilty,  then,  ol 
the  most  short-sighted  folly  when  we  allow  ourselves  to 
look  among  such  for  the  return  it  would  be  reasonable  to 
anticipate  from  others.  As  a  general  rule,  to  which,  how- 
ever, I  am  glad  to  remember  some  exceptions,  you  are  ut- 
terly to  abandon  the  thought  of  gratitude  for  what  you  do, 
as  a  physician  never  expects  a  child  to  understand  how 
much  has  been  done  for  it.  This  is  an  important  thing  to 
bear  in  mind.  Otherwise  we  are  so  sickened  and  dis- 
heartened by  the  discovery  of  baseness  and  thanklessness, 
that  we  are  almost  inclined  to  give  up  a  duty,  which  how- 
ever little  return  it  may  have  in  outward  gratification,  is 
still  a  duty  imposed  upon  us  by  God,  and  as  impossible  to 
deny  as  that  which  demands  obedience  from  child  to  par- 
ent. And  moreover,  too  lofty  an  estimate  will  seriously 
impede  us  in  the  use  of  those  moral  means  which  the  posi- 
tion of  benefactor  usually  puts  at  one's  disposal.  Gen- 
erally speaking,  continuous  want  springs  from  thriftlessness, 
extravagance,  foolish  pride,  and  a  false  notion  of  the  degra- 
dation caused  by  any  honest  labor.  These  are  grave  faults, 
and  it  is  every  benefactor's  bounden  duty  to  discourage  and 
check  them.  Every  thing  likely  to  bUnd  us  to  the  exist- 
ence of  such  faults  then,  is  so  much  in  the  way  of  our 
rightly  using  the  means  of  doing  good.  We  must  see 
clearly  in  order  to  act  wisely. 

I  have  treated  this  subject  because  I  believe  it  to  be  of 
vast  importance  from  whatever  point  of  view  regarded. 
I  have  attempted  to  arouse  no  specially  poetical  or  roman- 
tic notions  regarding  it,  but  rather  to  suggest  the  need  of 
turning  the  immense  amounts  which  annually  go  to  sup- 


CHARITY   AND   ITS  ABUSES.  191 

port  these  public  pests  and  enemies  into  the  channel  indi- 
cated by  reflection  and  true  philanthropy.  The  relief  of 
want  is  not  a  duty  which  can  be  successfully  discharged 
without  grave  thought  and  a  feeling  of  responsibility.  It  is 
never  so  imperfectly  done  as  when  we  look  to  it  merely  for 
pleasurable  excitement. 

"  God  will  not  let  love's  work  impart 
Full  solace,  lest  it  steal  the  heart." 

The  true  spirit  in  which  to  perforiri  it  is  that  in  which 
we  come  to  the  Holy  Communion — the  sense  of  unworthi- 
ness,  of  weakness,  of  the  need  of  spiritual  help,  of  gratitude 
to  God  for  the  gift  of  His  dear  Son,  and  the  feeling  that, 
being  redeemed  by  Him,  all  men  are  our  brothers.  Thus 
feeling,  we  shall  not  be  overmuch  cast  down  by  disappoint- 
ments that  are  inevitable.  And  thus  strong  in  our  faith, 
we  shall  look  to  Him  unceasingly  for  help  in  carrying  on 
the  work  to  which  His  earthly  life  was  devoted,  that 
through  our  patience  and  long-suffering,  the  weary  and 
heavy-laden  may  come  unto  Him  and  find  rest. 


XVI. 

THE    POWER   OF    AN    ENDLESS    LIFE. 
"  The  power  of  an  endless  life." — Heb.  vii.  16. 

Who  can  survey  the  broadest  expanse  of  principle,  and 
from  that  vantage-ground  discern  the  most  accurately  the 
far-reaching  results  of  the  agencies  around  them  ?  Are 
they  not  those  who  are  in  other  respects  the  noblest — 
whose  lives  are  animated  by  the  truest  principles — whose 
souls  are  ever  straining  after  the  best  ends  ? 

So,  on  the  other  hand,  if  we  begin  with  the  latter  con- 
sideration, we  shall  find  that  this  nobility  of  soul — the  as- 
piration after  such  ends,  is  joined  with  the  power  of  sur- 
veying the  most  extensive  fields  of  inquiry  or  of  action. 

This  invariable  connection  of  greatness  of  soul  with  the 
entertainment  of  broad  views,  cannot  be  accidental. 
What  is  the  reason  ?  Is  it  true  that  these  men  are  horn 
to  such  a  heritage,  and  that  no  others  can  gain  it?  Or  is 
it  not  rather  that  the  constant  contemplation  of  high  des- 
tinies, itself  exerts  an  ennobling  influence  upon  the  mind  ? 

Whatever  amount  of  truth  there  may  be  in  the  former 
supposition — however  it  may  be  that  some  men  enter  by 
right  of  birth  upon  the  enjoyment  of  this  grand  heritage, 
the  truth  of  the  latter  statement  is  more  unquestionable 
still.  Men  can  be  raised  by  the  habitual  contemplation 
of  great  truths  and  high  destinies  to  a  pitch  of  greatness 
never  dreamed  of  before. 

Look  at  the  world  around  you  and  see  why  the  majori- 
192 


THE  POWER  OF  AN   ENDLESS   LIFE.  193 

ty  of  those  who  compose  it  lead  such  hves.  It  is  because 
they  have  no  appreciation  of  anything  beyond  the  lowest 
motives.  To  amass  money  and  to  acquire  thereby  con- 
sideration in  society — to  gratify  their  tastes  and  enjoy 
themselves, — are  not  these  the  aims  of  the  great  propor- 
tion of  mankind  ?  They  live  only  from  day  to  day  :  or  if 
the  future  exerts  any  influence  over  them,  it  is  a  very 
limited  future  that  they  look  forward  to,  and  the  vista 
that  stretches  before  them  is  not  one  that  reveals  ends  of  a 
lofty  character.  Practically,  the  power  of  an  endless  life 
has  no  place  among  the  influences  which  sway  them. 

Suppose  society  at  large,  however,  aroused  from  this 
condition.  Suppose  the  truth  that  we  are  immortal  be- 
ings to  become  an  ever-present  thought, — pervading  every 
department  of  life, — influencing  every  branch  of  activity. 
Let  the  thought  that  we  are  pursuing  a  career  which  is 
never  to  end,  and  each  of  whose  successive  stages  is 
moulded  by  that  which  went  before,  be  an  hourly  com- 
panion. Can  you  help  seeing  how  elevating  it  would  be  ? 
Beneath  the  over-shadowing  majesty  of  a  conviction  like 
this,  the  paltry  cares  and  ambitions  that  fill  our  day 
would  cower  into  nothingness,  awed  out  of  existence. 
Drawn  onward  with  irresistible  force  along  the  ever- 
widening  avenue  of  an  endless  life,  men  would  grow,  not 
simply  able  to  resist,  but  incapable  of  bestowing  engross- 
ing thought  upon  those  things  that  now  exert  so  disturb- 
ing an  influence.  So  mighty  a  belief  must  expand  the  soul 
in  which  it  abides.  It  must  crowd  out  the  mean  and 
paltry,  and  assimilate  to  itself  the  whole  man.  But  this 
is  only  the  general  statement  of  a  felt  immortality.  Let 
us  see  more  exactly  how  it  will  operate. 

Nothing  great  can  be  done  by  little  men,  or  by  men 
9 


194  THE   rOWER   OF   AN    ENDLESS   LIFE. 

who  feel  themselves  little.  However  grieved  by  his  short- 
comings, or  humiliated  by  his  sins,  the  man  who  does 
great  deeds  must  know  that  he  has  in  himself  something 
that  links  him  to  their  grandeur.  Nay,  even  this  repen- 
tance, this  humiliation,  are  they  not  themselves  the  proof 
that  he  does  not  deem  himself  wholly  base?  It  is  just 
because  he  feels  sin  to  be  a  surrender  of  his  high  destiny 
— a  practical  dishonoring  of  himself — a  falling  short  of 
the  lofty  part  which  God  gave  him  to  enact,  that  his  re- 
morse is  so  bitter.  It  is  because  he  knows  that  by  ad- 
mitting him  to  communion  with  Himself,  by  breathing  the 
Holy  Spirit  into  his  heart,  God  gave  him  the  assurance  of 
a  holy  and  hence  a  noble  life.  This  feeling,  which,  for 
want  of  a  better  name,  must  be  called  pride,  is  essential  to 
the  achievement  of  lofty  deeds.  Only  let  it  be  remembered 
that  it  is  a  feeling  as  far  removed  from  vanity  or  self- 
glorification  as  Heaven  is  from  earth.  It  is  ever  joined 
with  the  truest  humility.  Its  possessor  reverently  bows 
before  God  as  the  source  of  all  his  endowments.  He  as- 
pires after  greatness,  not  as  a  means  of  gaining  applause, 
but  as  the  only  thing  possible  for  a  soul  which  comes  from 
God,  and  which  was  created  to  love  and  glorify  and  serve 
its  Maker. 

Now  that  which  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  calls  the 
power  of  an  endless  life,  nourishes  a  feeling  of  this  descrip- 
tion— it  must  give  rise  to  the  sentiijient  of  moral  dignity 
that  we  see  to  be  so  essential  to  any  nobility  of  action. 

So  long  as  men  live  practically  as  though  their  life 
were  as  brief  as  that  of  the  beasts  that  perish — so  long  as 
their  desires  are  bounded  by  the  satisfying  of  wants  that 
belong  only  to  earth,  their  endless  life  puts  forth  none  of 
its  power.     For    any    influence  it  has  upon  them,  what 


THE    POWER   OF   AN    ENDLESS   LIFE.  195 

they  act  upon  might  as  well  be  true — they  might  as  well 
have  had  no  higher  destiny  than  the  insect  which  flutters 
from  morn  to  eve  amid  the  glories  of  a  summer's  day. 
Thinking  themselves  little,  they  become  so  in  reality. 
Alive  to  none  of  their  capacities,  they  lose  those  capacities. 
As  they  become  more  and  more  wrapt  up  in  unworthy 
pursuits,  their  souls  shrink  to  the  measure  of  the  thoughts 
and  principles  that  govern  them. 

But  upon  a  soul  thus  doing  dishonor  to  its  capabilities, 
imagine  the  effect,  when  into  its  narrow  work-house  breaks 
the  consciousness  of  that  life  and  immortality  which  Christ 
brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel  !  We  saw  before,  in  gen- 
eral, how  ennobling  will  be  the  effect  of  such  a  discovery. 
Now,  guided  by  the  thought  of  the  necessity  of  a  sense  of 
greatness  to  the  performance  of  great  deeds,  we  can  see 
more  exactly  how  this  change  will  be  effected.  The  mist 
of  uncertainty,  or  darkness,  which  once  rested  a  few  steps 
before  the  man,  rendering  him  incapable  of  planning  for 
more  than  a  few  days,  or  months,  or  years,  suddenly  lifts, 
and  he  beholds,  stretching  far  on  into  infinity  the  path 
which  seemed  so  short.  He  feels  that  all  along  that  road, 
he  will  be  accompanied  by  the  influences  of  each  deed 
that  he  is  performing  to-day ;  the  good  actions  supporting 
him  and  cheering  him  to  renewed  exertions,  the  bad 
changing  themselves  into  phantoms  of  malignant  power  to 
drag  him  aside.  Can  he,  think  you, — can  he  be  again  the 
little,  pitiable  thing  he  was  before  ?  Can  he  remain  con- 
tent with  the  trifles  which  were  suited  to  the  creature 
whose  life  was  a  span,  when  all  his  eternity  opens  before 
him  ?  The  stupendous  part  he  is  called  to  perform — the 
mighty  sphere  he  is  destined  to  fill — these  arouse  all  the 
slumbering  good  in  him,  shame  the  pettiness  into  its  pro- 


196  THE   POWER   OF   AN    ENDLESS   LIFE. 

per  insignificance,  and  spur  him  on  to  make  himself  worthy 
of  God  who  admitted  him  to  such  privileges,  of  the  Saviour 
who  died  to  free  him  from  his  sins,  of  the  Holy  Ghost 
whose  aid  he  must  claim  with  each  step  toward  the  reali- 
zation of  those  mighty  hopes  that  have  made  him  once 
more  a  man. 

The  reflections  arising  from  such  a  discovery  are  so  inti- 
mately linked  together  that  they  seem  rather  parts  of  one 
great  whole  than  separate  influences.  But  each  of  them 
exerts  its  own  proper  force.  Thus  as  he  feels  day  by  day 
more  keenly  the  magnitude  of  the  future  life,  his  yearning 
to  fill  it  in  a  manner  worthy  of  his  high  calling  will  be 
strengthened  by  finding  that  it  is  not  a  distinct,  separate 
thing — this  future  existence — not  one  which  is  marked  off 
by  a  clear  line  from  the  life  he  is  living  now,  but  simply  a 
continuation  of  it.  The  boy  looks  forward  wistfully  to  his 
manhood,  and  can  hardly  believe  but  that  when  he  enters 
on  what  seem  its  unmingled  delights,  he  shall  undergo 
some  instantaneous,  radical  change  from  his  present  self. 
The  child,  he  thinks,  busy  with  his  ball  and  his  marbles 
must  disappear  suddenly,  or  else  he  never  can  become  like 
these  men  whom  he  hopes  one  day  to  resemble.  But  as 
the  man  looks  back  on  the  slow  stages  which  have  brought 
him  on  his  way  to  maturity  he  sees  no  such  sudden  trans- 
formation. In  their  due  time,  the  childish  fancies  and 
tastes  which  once  occupied  him  melted  away  without  his 
knowing  it  until  they  were  gone,  and  in  their  stead,  silently, 
mysteriously,  arose  others,  of  whose  growth  he  was  almost 
as  unconscious,  until  one  day  he  found  himself  to  his  sur- 
prise, what  he  had  perhaps  a  year  before  been  looking  for- 
ward to  as  a  far-off  thing — a  man.  The  gentle  undula- 
tions in  the  path  from  infancy  to  maturity  which  to  a 


THE    POWER    OF   AN    ENDLESS   LIFE.  197 

little  child,  straining  himself  to  look  down  into  their  depths, 
seemed  mysterious  abysses  through  which  he  could  never 
pass  without  a  sudden  change,  from  the  higher  ground  of 
manhood  can  hardly  be  distinguished  in  the  unbroken 
highway  which  has  led  him  on  to  his  present  standing- 
point. 

Thus  of  earthly  life  and  eternity.  A  change — a  mighty 
change  no  doubt  there  is,  between  being  a  dweller  on  earth 
occupied  exclusively  with  its  concerns,  and  being  fit  for 
Heaven.  But  the  mere  passage  across  the  dark  river  is  not 
always  the  occasion  of  that  change.  Indeed  it  is  very 
seldom  so.  The  transformation  must,  almost  always,  take 
place  long  before. 

For  we  must  get  rid  of  the  almost  materialistic  thought 
that  Heaven  is  something  radically  different  from  what  it 
is  possible  to  experience  here.  Since  the  soul  is  not  to 
become  infinite  it  must,  after  it  enters  upon  the  enjoyment 
of  Heaven,  be  in  some  place ;  though  the  Bible  has  wisely 
refrained  from  dwelling  too  minutely  upon  such  points  as 
this.  But  the  crowning  bliss  of  that  condition  will  un- 
doubtedly be  the  communion  with  God  that  we  shall  enjoy. 
Now  this  is  just  what  may  be  gained  with  increasing  cer- 
tainty and  fulness  on  this  side  the  tomb.  Who  does  not 
know  of  Christians  whose  connection  with  this  world  is  but 
as  some  gossamer  thread,  hardly  felt,  except  as  hindering 
them  from  actually  quitting  it,  but  whose  souls  are  in 
constant  intercourse  with  Him  in  whom  they  delight  ? 

No,  believe  me,  Heaven  may  begin  on  earth.  It  is  a 
mighty  revelation  when  we 

"  In  one  rapt  moment  know, 
'Tia  Heaven  must  come,  not  we  must  go." 

The  leaving  of  the  scene  of  mortal  pilgrimage  is  a  thing 


198  THE   POWER   OF   AN   ENDLESS    LIFE. 

of  but  small  moment  to  one,  all  of  whose  treasure  has  long 
since  been  laid  up  where  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth 
corrupt,  and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  nor  steal. 
To  be  quit  of  the  dangers  of  earth — of  its  cares  and  its 
toils — this  no  doubt,  is  a  thing  to  be  desired ;  but  to  such 
souls  it  grows  plain,  long  before  the  summons  comes,  that 
that  which  makes  Heaven  is  not  denied  even  here,  to  him 
who  by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing  seeks  for  it. 
Let  this  become  clear  to  any  one,  even  though  he  be  not 
fully  up  to  so  lofty  a  level,  and  see  how  it  must  affect 
him  to  think  that  earthly  life  is  only  the  beginning  of  a 
pathway  which  even  death  overshadows  but  for  a  moment. 
It  will  be  much  as  when  some  little,  turbulent,  ill- 
governed  province  is  made  a  part  of  a  neighboring  empire, 
vast  in  extent,  moving  harmoniously  on  to  its  destiny, 
under  influences  of  law  and  order.  The  denizen  of  such  a 
little  province  was,  before,  incapable  of  any  thing  grander  • 
than  some  partizan  fanaticism,  because  his  mind  was 
cramped  by  the  petty  limits  within  which  alone  he  could 
call  himself  a  citizen.  The  broils  that  agitated  his  neigh- 
borhood— the  insignificant  questions  of  its  finance  and 
trade  occupied  him  exclusively.  His  province  could  not 
by  any  possibility  gain  a  commanding  position  among  the 
nations  of  the  earth,  and  so  its  citizen,  like  its  govern- 
ment, was  denied  the  privilege  of  moving  on  a  lofty  course. 
But  when  to  his  rights  as  a  dweller  in  that  little  section 
are  superadded  those  of  a  member  of  a  spreading  empire, 
his  thoughts  and  aspirations  are  correspondingly  enlarged. 
The  paltry  cares  and  disputes  and  agitations  of  his  com- 
munity are  stilled  by  the  transition  to  a  broader  political 
life.  The  drop  of  water  cast  into  the  ocean  is  no  longer 
conscious  of  its  separate  individual  existence ;  it  rises  and 


THE   POWER  OF   AN   ENDLESS   LIFE.  199 

falls  with  the  wider  and  freer  heaving  of  the  tide  that 
swells  the  grander  body  of  which  it  has  become  a  part. 

And  so  with  this  earthly  life  of  ours.  How  can  I,  with 
a  sense  of  the  magnitude  of  eternity  upon  me — flooded 
with  the  influence  of  its  grandeur — how  can  I  longer  be 
willing  to  make  this  world  the  limit  of  my  exertions? 
Engrafted  into  the  commonwealth  of  Heaven,  how  can  I 
think  exclusively  of  my  bodily  cares  and  wants,  content  to 
fit  myself  to  be  forever  an  inhabitant  of  earth's  narrow 
boundaries  when  those  boundaries  have  disappeared,  when 
it  is  merged  into  a  domain  as  broad  as  infinity,  and  as 
imperial  in  its  sway  as  the  Grod  who  rules  it  ?  No,  truly ! 
As  the  anarchy  and  confusion  around  me  sicken  my  heart, 
I  will  take  to  myself  wings  as  a  dove,  I  will  flee  away  and 
be  at  rest  in  the  longing  anticipation  of  Heaven.  And  as 
the  knowledge  that  I  need  not  wait  for  Heaven  to  come  to 
me  at  the  hour  of  death  becomes  plain,  the  coarse  prison- 
house  around  me  will  fade  away,  and  in  the  discharge  of 
its  duties  I  shall  feel  that  I  am  no  more  a  bondsman 
chained  to  his  task,  but  a  cunning  craftsman,  fashioning  to 
myself  out  of  the  materials  around  me, — the  temptations 
and  trials  of  the  world, — a  heaven  that  no  tempest  can 
overthrow.  From  the  eternity  of  which  I  now  feel  that 
each  day  forms  a  part,  will  flow  powers  of  law  and  order, 
stilling  the  turmoil  which  rages  where  eternity  is  lost 
from  sight.  Firm  in  my  allegiance  to  the  ruler  of  that 
august  monarchy  of  which  I  am  now  a  citizen,  the  dis- 
tracting claims  of  inclination  and  unbridled  license  will 
be  absorbed :  inclination  will  incline  to  God,  and  license 
will  be  merged  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  His  dear  child. 
I  have  tasted-  of  the  powers  of  the  world  to  come,  and 
my  lower  appetites  are  dead. 


200  THE   POWER   OF   AN   ENDLESS   LIFE. 

No  truth  which  is  worth  much  to  us  but  can  be  trans- 
lated into  the  language  of  our  daily  life.  Let  it  be  as 
grand  as  it  may  when  looked  upon  from  a  distance,  it  must 
be  capable  of  being  brought  to  bear  upon  the  spiritual 
life.  It  is  no  argument  against  the  value  of  a  doctrine 
that  you  find  a  difficulty  in  so  making  use  of  it,  for  it  may 
be  on  account  of  your  own  deficiencies ;  but  what  is  in 
itself  incapable  of  use  is  not  a  doctrine  of  very  much  im- 
portance. 

I  see,  for  example,  how  full  of  daily  value  are  the  funda- 
mental truths  of  our  religion.  The  Incarnation,  teaching 
us  that  if  Christ  was  willing  to  become  man,  our  salvation 
is  of  untold  moment  in  His  eyes,  and  should  be  so  in  ours. 
The  Atonement,  giving  us  daily  proof  that  through  Him 
we  have  the  way  of  access  to  God  without  which  we  are 
lost.  The  doctrine  of  the  Spirit's  power  and  operations, 
affording  us  in  our  loneliest  hours,  and  in  our  deepest  sor- 
rows, the  consolation  that  though  deserted  by  human 
friends,  a  dearer  friend  than  they  shelters  us  under  the 
shadow  of  His  wing.  Even  the  mysterious  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity,  at  first  sight  so  barren  of  use  in  our  daily  walk, 
but  in  whose  absence  our  Saviour  would  be  but  a  mere 
creature,  not  God — the  Holy  Ghost,  only  an  influence — 
not  the  ever-present  and  all-powerful  Person  that  we  know 
Him  to  be. 

So,  too,  if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  an  endless  life,  it 
will  have  a  fower  belonging  to  it,  and  one  which  may  be 
exerted  not  simply  at  some  moment  of  respite  from  toil, 
when  we  are  free  to  meditate  on  heavenly  things,  but  even 
amid  the  smaller  duties  of  civil  or  domestic  life. 

See  how  it  will  fare  with  you.  The  comparatively  low 
motives  which  must  influence  one  who  has  no  ever-present 


THE   POWER  OF   AN   ENDLESS  LIFE.  201 

sense  of  the  power  of  an  endless  life,  die  of  inanition  in 
the  atmosphere  of  eternity.  As  such  a  man  goes  to  his 
daily  toil,  he  is  conscious  that  what  he  is  toiling  for  is 
something  which  is  not  to  be  estimated  in  earthly  rewards 
(which  are  the  money  of  the  worldling,  but  only  the  coun- 
ters of  the  wise).  He  cannot  content  himself  at  the  year's 
end  by  thinking  that  he  has  gained  the  dross  after  which 
others  strive.  There  must  have  been  acquisitions  of  a 
nobler  kind  to  satisfy  him.  His  soul  must  have  won  new 
powers — he  must  have  become  wiser,  better,  more  keen- 
sighted  to  pierce  the  mists  of  time  and  see  with  increasing 
certainty  the  rewards  which  this  world  can  neither  give 
nor  take  away,  but  for  which  it  is  the  appointed  place  in 
which  to  strive.  Of  what  satisfying  power  to  him  are  the 
meeds  from  social  consideration,  unless  along  with  these 
he  knows  that  he  has  increased  in  favor  with  his  God.  To 
what  purpose  is  it  that  he  has  much  goods  laid  up  for 
many  years  if  he  have  bought  them  by  starving  the  soul 
from  its  due — if  its  powers  have  been  bartered  for  things 
which  are  in  themselves  powerless  to  minister  to  its  needs  ? 
Happy  indeed  is  he,  if  he  may  gain  both  these  ends,  but 
if  only  one  of  them  can  be  his,  the  power  of  an  endless 
life,  moulding  all  his  aspirations  cannot  leave  him  in  doubt 
which  he  shall  choose. 

So  far  as  to  the  effect  which  the  power  will  produce  ii^ 
modifying  his  conception  of  what  is  truly  desirable.  1% 
does  not  make  him  a  hermit,  it  does  not  rob  him  of  the 
wise  man's  appreciation  of  the  true  worth  and  use  of 
money,  or  power,  or  position,  but  it  enlightens  him,  and 
teaches  him  that  these  things  are  worthy  of  his  striving 
only  in  so  far  as  they  are  capable  of  being  assimilated  and 
employed  by  the  immortal  part  of  his  nature,  for   ends 

9* 


202  THE   POWER   OF   AN   ENDLESS   LIFE. 

which  stretch  far  beyond  this  earth,  and  are  as  endless  as 
the  eternity  towards  which  he  is  a  wayfarer.  But  the 
moment  they  begin  to  impede  him  on  his  pilgrimage — 
the  moment  they  become  a  drag  upon  his  soul,  he  feels 
that  they  are  not  simply  useless,  but  as  necessary  to  be 
abandoned  as  its  baggage  by  a  flying  army  whose  only 
hope  of  escape  lies  in  speed. 

But  not  merely  as  influencing  the  objects  of  his  activity 
will  the  power  of  an  endless  life  display  itself.  Equally 
mighty  will  it  be  in  determining  what  principles  are  to 
guide  him  in  gaining  what  he  knows  is  to  be  striven  for. 
It  is  simply  the  operation  in  another  sphere  of  the  same 
agency.  Nor  are  we  to  regard  it  as  a  principle  working 
from  without.  It  is  not  that  when  a  course  of  action  pre- 
sents itself  to  him  he  is  obliged  to  weigh,  and  ponder,  and 
compare,  in  order  to  find  out  toilsomely  whether  it  is  in 
accordance  with  certain  maxims  which  have  been  given  him 
to  work  by,  but  which  are  not  in  sympathy  with  his 
nature.  It  is  rather  to  be  compared — this  consciousness 
of  immortality — with  the  unerring  instinct  with  which 
the  plant  selects  and  absorbs  into  itself  all  that  it  needs 
from  the  air  and  earth  around,  so  as  to  mount  up  surely 
and  beautifully  in  accordance  with  the  type  to  which  it 
belongs.  Put  a  rose  in  your  garden  and  it  makes  no  mis- 
take in  the  elements  which  it  must  appropriate — it  does 
not  degenerate  into  a  thistle. 

So  put  your  heir  of  immortality  into  the  world,  full  of 
the  power  of  an  endless  life,  and  he  selects  with  God-given 
instinct,  what  his  germ  of  immortality  wants ;  hardly  con- 
scious, perhaps,  of  what  he  is  doing — hardly  conscious  of 
all  the  injurious  influences  about  him  striving  to  poison  his 
soul.    The  plant  is  a  rose ;  it  cannot  change  into  a  thistle. 


THE   POWER   OF   AN   ENDLESS  LIFE.  203 

The  man  is  immortal,  and  knows  it ;  therefore  he  can  feed 
only  on  the  food  of  immortality.  Thus,  whatever  object 
claims  his  attention,  whether  domestic,  or  social,  or  politi- 
cal, his  instinct  rejects  all  low  or  earth-born  means  of 
gaining  it.  The  gross  atmosphere  of  mere  success  in 
attainment  stifles  him.  He  must  feel, — it  is  the  peremp- 
tory law  of  his  existence  to  feel — that  in  gaining  the  tem- 
poral and  transitory  end,  he  is  not  compromising  truth 
eternal.  He  cannot  barter  the  gold  of  an  endless  life,  for 
any  glittering  dross  of  temporary  success.  Expediency  to 
him  assumes  another  and  a  higher  meaning  than  it  gene- 
rally bears.  That  only  is  expedient,  which  is  in  harmony 
with  the  view  that  makes  him  no  butterfly  which  shall 
drop  into  nothingness  when  his  little  day  is  over,  but  a 
child  of  God,  with  destinies  too  mighty  to  let  him  entangle 
himself  with  low  and  unworthy  motives.  He  is  to  live 
forever,  he  will  not  consent  to  bemire  himself.  He  is  to 
live  forever,  he  cannot  stain  one  day  of  his  eternal 
existence  by  forgetting  that  grand  truth. 

So  too  with  his  more  strictly  religious  life.  This  is  seen 
to  be  no  separate  thing,  claiming  a  little  part  of  his  day, 
to  be  set  aside  when  he  leaves  his  closet,  but  an  animating 
principle  which  leavens  his  whole  existence. 

Still,  though  his  entire  being  be  permeated  with  this 
thought,  tliere  are  parts  of  it  on  which  rests  a  peculiarly 
calm  and  holy  light.  Even  amid  the  turmoil  of  activity 
he  can  feel  that  God  is  near,  and  He  knows  that  it  is  best 
for  him  to  toil.  Yet  there  is  a  yearning  for  more  immedi- 
ate intercourse  with  his  Father,  which  can  be  satisfied 
only  when  these  things  may  be  laid  aside,  and  he  may 
surrender  himself  wholly  to  communion  with  his  Lord. 
It  is  strange  that  even  here,  men  may  forget  their  immor- 


204  THE   POWER   OF   AN   ENDLESS   LIFE. 

tality.  Even  when  communing  with  Grod,  the  same  principle 
may  assert  itself,  by  force  of  which  men  may  lose  sight  of 
their  heritage  of  immortality,  and  one  may  rest  satisfied 
with  just  keeping  alive  the  spark  of  divine  life.  But  for 
him  who  is  indeed  under  the  influence  of  the  principle  of 
which  we  speak  no  such  thing  is  possible.  That  which  is 
to  live  forever  must  grow,  and  he  cannot  grovel  on  a  plane, 
but  one  remove  from  his  who  lives  as  though  Heaven  were 
not.  Conscious  of  the  worth  of  spirituality,  he  cannot  let 
anything  else  overgrow  and  stifle  it.  Those  will  be  the 
sweet,  precious  moments  of  the  day,  when  his  soul,  com- 
muning face  to  face  with  Him  who  is  invisible,  gathers 
fresh  strength  to  resist  the  lowering  influences  of  earthly 
life,  and  by  vanquishing  them,  converts  their  noxious 
fumes  into  food,  which  will  nourish  the  flame  of  immortal 
life  within.  To  him  the  word  of  God  that  speaks  to  him 
of  his  heritage  beyond  the  grave,  will  be  immeasurably 
precious,  and  the  truth  which  is  so  dear  to  him  will  assert 
its  natural  difi'usive  power,  and  impel  him  to  acquaint 
those  around  him  with  its  worth,  by  preaching  the  .Gospel 
as  far  as  in  him  lies  to  every  creature. 

Thus  does  every  department  of  the  Gospel  necessarily 
imply  all  the  rest.  From  whatever  point  you  set  out,  you 
find  ere  long  that  every  one  of  God's  truths  must  embrace 
all  the  others  as  it  is  developed,  and  the  power  of  an  end- 
less life  once  fairly  implanted  stretches  its  influence  over 
the  whole  man. 

These  things  of  which  I  have  been  speaking,  my  friends, 
are  no  mystical  and  impracticable  speculations.  The  state 
which  I  have  described  is  not  only  possible  for  you  to 
reach,  but  will  be  your  sin  if  you  do  not. 

The  power  of  an  endless  life  is  the  property  of  every 


THE  POWER  OF  AN   ENDLESS   LIFE.  205 

Christian.  Nothing  but  a  melancholy  declension  in  faith 
and  zeal,  can  permit  you  to  ignore  this  fact.  As  you  are 
even  dimly  aware  of  the  high  destiny  which  belongs  to  you 
as  an  immortal  being,  I  charge  you  to  remember  thi=i, 
and  to  strive  that  it  be  an  ever-present  thought,  that 
you  are  disgracing  your  soul,  despising  God,  trampling 
under  foot  His  blessed  Son,  just  in  proportion  as  this 
truth  drops  out  of  your  horizon,  and  you  contentedly 
grovel  on  a  lower  plane  than  befits  the  child  of  the  King 
eternal,  immortal,  and  invisible. 


XVII. 


CERTAINTY. 


"  If  we  love  one  another,  God  dwelleth  in  ns,  and  His  love  is  perfected 
in  us.  Hereby  know  we  that  we  dwell  in  Him  and  He  in  us  because  He 
hath  given  us  of  His  Spirit." — 1  St.  John  iv.  12, 13. 

One  of  the  latest  acquirements  of  the  Christian  soul  is 
the  perpetual  maintenance  of  that  certainty  of  which  St. 
John  here  speaks.  It  does  not  seem  indeed,  as  though 
God  designed  us  to  have  it  in  just  the  way  in  which  we 
have  it  regarding  many  matters  of  our  daily  life. 

If  this  be  so — if,  on  the  one  hand,  the  certainty  attain- 
able here  is  of  a  different  kind  from  that  of  common  ex- 
perience, and  if,  on  the  other,  its  evidence  is  of  a  different 
sort,  it  may  well  be  that  mistaken  hopes  and  expectations 
stand  in  the  way  of  gaining  even  that  which  is  put  within 
our  reach :  we  may  be  anxiously  looking  out  for  the  ap- 
pearance of  something  unlike  what  we  shall  ever  see,  and 
looking  too  in  the  wrong  direction.  That  we  do  crave 
sure  knowledge  about  our  present  condition  and  our  spir- 
itual destinies  is  undeniable,  at  least  where  any  intensity  of 
Christian  feeling  exists.  That  most  of  us  have  from  time 
to  time,  in  this  department  of  being,  a  dim,  shadowy  pre- 
sentiment, I  think  very  probable.  Nor  is  such  a  feeling  of 
the  impossibility  of  forecasting  the  future  at  all  an  un- 
mingled  evil.  If  we  were  beyond  the  reach  of  tempta- 
tion— if  our  earthly  probation  were  over,  and  we  had  en- 
tered on  the  enjoyment  of  Paradise — then  such  a  lack  of 
absolute  certainty  would  constitute  a  sinful  doubt  of  the 
206 


CERTAINTY.  207 

unconditional  promise  of  God.  But  the  awful  possibili- 
ties of  our  sinful  nature  are  so  often  disclosed  to  us  by  the 
unlooked-for  manifestations  that  evil  tendencies  which  we 
thought  killed  are  still  alive — the  passions  that  seemed 
well  gotten  under,  raise  their  hateful  heads  again  so  de- 
fiantly— the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  or  the  murderous  instincts 
are  so  plainly  not  altogether  quelled — that  any  such  cer- 
tainty as  would  absolutely  put  us  at  rest,  and  enable  us 
to  think  no  more  about  our  final  destiny  would  be  perni- 
cious to  the  last  degree.  All  this  is  evident.  And  the 
craving  for  such  a  kind  of  certainty  has  been  felt  in  every 
age.  For  a  long  period  it  found  satisfaction  and  excuse 
in  the  doctrine  of  Predestination  and  Election.  The  re- 
ferences made  in  Scripture  to  God's  plans  and  His  fore- 
knowledge, in  this  matter  of  men's  eternal  salvation,  were 
eagerly  laid  hold  of,  systematized,  and  promulgated  with 
strange  disregard  to  the  plain  way  in  which  salvation  is 
spoken  of  as  open  to  all ;  and  in  its  later  form  of  Calvinism, 
as  embraced  by  the  sternest,  sturdiest,  gloomiest  races  of 
Europe,  it  had  an  influence  over  the  human  mind,  and  the 
tenor  of  common  life,  which  we  can  but  dimly  conceive. 
Of  course,  and  by  the  confession  of  all  saner  minds,  it  was 
utterly  impossible  for  any  man  to  arrive  at  certainty  on 
the  most  important  point  of  all,  namely  whether  he,  him- 
self were  among  the  number  predestinated  to  eternal  bliss. 
But  this  does  not  seem  to  have  seriously  hindered  the 
sway  of  the  doctrine  in  Scotland,  in  New  England,  or 
among  Cromwell's  Roundheads.  And,  maligned  as  it  has 
been  from  Hudibras  down  to  Theodore  Parker,  or  Froude, 
its  general  efibct  for  a  long  period  was  not  inconsistent 
with  a  condition  of  private  morals  and  public  purity  of 
motive,  hardly  to  be  matched  by  any  contemporary  sys- 
tem. 


208  CERTAINTY. 

These  tenets  may  now  to  a  very  large  extent,  be  said 
to  have  lost  their  vitality,  or  at  least  their  prominence. 
Most  men  who  think  upon  the  subject  feel  that  God  must 
at  least  have  foreknown  the  destiny  of  each  soul  that  was 
to  be  brought  into  the  world ;  and  so  it  may  be,  as  our 
seventeenth  Article  nobly  phrases  it,  that  "  Godly  consider- 
ation of  Predestination,  and  our  Election  in  Christ,  is  full 
of  sweet,  pleasant,  and  unspeakable  comfort  to  godly  per- 
sons, and  such  as  feel  in  themselves  the  working  of  the 
Spirit  of  Christ,  mortifying  the  works  of  the  flesh,  and 
their  earthly  members,  and  drawing  up  their  minds  to  high 
and  heavenly  things."  But  this  is  only  as  a  part  of  their 
common  Christian  life,  and  not  at  all  as  furnishing  that 
absolute  and  unconditional  certainty  to  which  it  once  so 
largely  gave  birth.  Where  it  once  begot  a  hard,  self- 
satisfied  assurance  among  those  who  seemed  least  entitled 
to  it,  the  same  class  of  men  now-a-days  have  come  to  cheer 
themselves  with  an  easy  confidence  quite  as  harmful,  and 
much  less  logical.  But  with  neither  of  these  attitudes  of 
mind  do  I  now  propose  to  deal.  I  wish  to  speak  rather 
upon  a  point  of  high  importance  for  those  whose  religious 
lives  are  real,  and  deep,  and  reverent,  but  who  have  never 
made  clear  to  themselves  just  how,  or  how  far,  they  may 
and  should  be  confident  in  regard  to  the  genuineness  and 
hopefulness  of  their  experience.  To  many,  no  doubt,  this 
class  will  seem  both  too  small  in  number,  and  too  weak  in 
character,  to  deserve  much  attention.  In  both  respects 
such  an  estimate  would  be  wrong.  Even  where  this  is 
not  the  habitual  mood,  most  of  us  have  occasional  experi- 
ence of  it ;  and  every  minister's  intercourse  with  his  peo- 
ple, in  ordinary  life,  and  still  more  as  death  draws  near, 
reveals  to  him  the  existence  of  this  state  of  mind  among 


CERTAINTY.  209 

those  whom  he  has  come  to  love  and  reverence.  And  if 
any  class  has  a  claim  upon  our  sympathy  more  than  an- 
other, it  is  surely  the  quiet,  uncomplaining  company  of 
the  world's  unseen  martyrs,  who  cannot  take  it  as  a  place 
of  happiness,  but  bear  their  cross  with  silent  steps  and 
downcast  head  along  the  byways  of  earth.  Such  char- 
acters as  these  in  the  master-pieces  of  literature,  win  from 
the  reader  his  readiest,  deepest,  reverence.  And  those  to 
whom  experience  reveals  them  in  actual  life,  are  not  less 
ready  certainly  with  their  sympathy  and  respect. 

A  certainty  like  that  of  the  multiplication-table  is  not  to 
be  expected  in  regard  to  our  eternal  destiny  :  but  as  to  our 
being  the  children  of  God,  here  spoken  of  as  dwelling  in 
Him,  and  having  Him  to  dwell  in  us,  of  this,  St.  John  as- 
sures us  we  may  be  certain.  Let  us  look  at  some  of  our 
uncertainties  and  their  causes. 

With  modest,  humble,  souls  the  most  common  subject  of 
doubt  is  the  reality  of  their  own  spiritual  lives — the  genuine- 
ness of  their  love  to  God.  At  times,  they  have  no  doubt. 
At  times,  the  man  is  so  full  of  devotion  and  thankfulness, 
Christ  seems  personally  so  near,  that  even  the  sorest  bur- 
dens of  life  are  borne  with  ease,  and  more  than  submission. 
And  by  the  burdens  he  is  thus  enabled  to  bear,  I  do  not 
mean  those  alone  which  concern  him  individually,  and 
those  near  to  him,  but  rather  the  sight  of  the  weary, 
blind,  sinful  world  about  him,  that  goes  on  so  recklessly 
spending  its  swiftly-fleeting  time  for  winning  eternal  life,  so 
little  recking  of  the  things  that  are  for  its  deepest  bliss. 
Even  this  he  can  bear ;  not  in  the  sense  of  shutting  his 
eyes  to  it,  and  forgetting  it — not  by  thinking  that,  after 
all,  wrong  may  be  nearer  akin  to  right,  sin  to  holiness — 
but  by  the  inflow  of  a  deeper  faith,  that  helps  him  to  know 


210  CERTAINTY. 

with  happy  assurance,  that  through  it  all  God  is  working 
out  a  plan  such  as  becomes  His  infinite  wisdom  and  His 
tender,  all-embracing  love. 

But  then  there  are  other  moods  in  which  to-day's  weak- 
ness, or  actual  sin,  sets  him  thinking  whether  such  un- 
worthy returns  for  Grod's  mercy  could  be  if  he  were  really 
His  child.  That  impatient  word,  could  it  have  come  from 
one  whose  body  is  indeed  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ? 
That  vile  thought  that  thrust  itself  into  the  mind,  and 
which  he  suffered  to  linger  there  for  a  time  with  pleasure, 
if  he  were  truly  a  new  man,  dead  unto  sin  and  alive  unto 
righteousness,  would  not  its  known  sinfulness  have  caused 
it  at  once  to  be  rejected  with  loathing?  The  dulness  and 
feebleness — the  almost  lack  of  desire  for  their  being  granted 
— with  which  this  morning's  prayers  were  uttered,  how 
could  such  things  be  in  a  soul  indeed  regenerated  ?  And 
all  these  have  the  other  side :  they  must  bear  equally  sad 
testimony  to  God's  not  having  so  truly  adopted  him — not 
taking  that  fatherly  oversight  of  his  welfare  which  at  other 
times  seems  so  clear.  How  is  he  to  strike  the  balance  be- 
tween these  two  alternating  states?  In  his  brightest, 
freest  moments  of  rejoicing,  there  is  much  more  of  sinful- 
ness present,  than  there  is  of  holiness  in  the  other  sinful 
mood.  Does  not  this  mean,  after  all,  that  holiness  has  not 
even  the  upper  hand  ?  still  less  is  supreme  ruler  ? 

I  go  into  these  details  because  they  occur  so  often,  and  be- 
cause I  always  feel  myself  more  satisfied  when  I  have  rea- 
son to  think  that  my  spiritual  physician  knows  what  is  the 
matter  with  me.  When  one  recognizes  in  Robertson's  ser- 
mons the  graphic  picture  of  one's  own  experience  of  weari- 
ness and  misgiving,  one  feels  the  better  able  to  draw  from 
his  brave  words  the  cheer  for  which,  in  such  moods  one 


CERTAINTY.  211 

thirsts,  and  the  inimitable  charm  of  language  is  not  alone 
what  renders  those  few  volumes  of  discourses  so  lastingly 
dear  to  men's  hearts.  It  is  because  of  another  quality,  I 
think,  that  we  love  them  so  :  because  they  create  in  us  the 
feeling  that  the  words  are  not  mere  words,  but  the  outcome 
of  personal  knowledge.  He  has  created,  almost,  a  new 
style  in  these  matters,  and  he  who  would  speak  helpfully 
to  men  must  try  at  least  to  make  them  see  that,  whatever 
his  deficiencies  otherwise,  he  does  not  lack  the  sympathy 
that  springs  from  a  common  experience. 

For  those  then  who  are  familiar  with  this  lack  of  cer- 
tainty, and  who  so  long  for  it,  the  grave  question  is  ever 
coming  back :  How  may  I  gain  the  assurance  of  which. 
St.  John  here  speaks  so  unhesitatingly  ?  Knowing  as  I 
do,  that  there  are  states  of  mind  in  which  holiness  is  less 
winning  than  the  passing  gratification  that  I  know  to  be 
wrong,  is  it  not  gross  presumption  to  trust  that  these 
holier  aspirations  are  trustworthy  signs  of  my  being  the 
child  of  God  ?  The  evidence  on  which  St,  John  here  rests 
— the  possession  of  the  Spirit — is  one  that  needs  amplifi- 
cation before  the  fulness  of  its  answer  is  apparent.  Let  us 
go  back  a  little  further  and  see  why  he  lays  such  stress 
upon  it. 

Which  is  the  natural  tendency,  of  these  two  of  which 
you  are  conscious?  Which  is  the  one  you  were  born 
with — the  one  which  is  most  akin  to  the  spirit  that  char- 
acterizes mankind  so  far  as  it  is  left  to  itself?  Books  and 
thoughts  belonging  to  the  purely  worldly  sphere,  which 
side  of  your  nature  do  they  appeal  to?  There  can  be  no 
question  here.  The  natural  state — that  which  would  be 
your  permanent  condition,  if  you  simply  allowed  things  to 
take  their  own  course  within,  and  made  no  conscientious 


212  CERTAINTY. 

eflfort — this  state  is  the  original  one.  It  may  and  will 
grow  worse — it  may  and  will  be  accompanied  by  remon- 
strance, more  or  less  feeble  from  the  higher  part  of  your 
nature ;  but  it  is  that  in  which  you  were  born, — it  is  sinful, 
and  left  to  yourself,  you  would  have  continued  wholly  in  it. 
It  might  not  have  burst  out  into  crime,  or  overt  wicked- 
ness of  any  kind ;  but  the  distinctive  mark  of  it  is  that 
holiness  is  not  its  aim,  nor  the  presence  of  a  holy  God  the 
place  in  which  it  delights.  Now  with  this  part  of  your 
nature  you  are  familiar  enough — only  too  painfully  fami- 
liar with  it,  and  it  is  its  persistent  opposition  to  improve- 
ment that  makes  you  often  doubt  as  to  your  being  indeed 
a  child  of  God. 

But  if,  as  has  been  already  said  so  often,  this  be  the 
natural  state,  what  are  you  to  say  about  this  other  disposi- 
tion that  maintains  such  a  struggle  against  it  ?  Weak  as  it 
often  is,  it  never  yields  to  worse  impulses  without  your 
knowing  that  if  you  had  chosen  to  exert  your  power,  the 
victory  would  have  been  on  the  other  side.  You  feel  that 
on  the  whole  it  is  gaining  on  the  other  and  original  dis- 
position towards  wrong.  Here  is  a  most  remarkable  set 
of  facts.  An  inclination  toward  what  we  may  at  least  call 
non-holiness  was  born  with  you-i-forms  part  of  human 
nature  as  it  has  displayed  itself  through  history  for  thou- 
sands of  years.  You  find  it  strong  within  you.  And  yet 
here  is  another  disposition,  fighting  against  it  continually, 
and  slowly  gaining  ground  upon  it.  Whence  came  this 
latter  ?  Can  it,  in  the  sense  of  being  a  real  potent  factor 
in  your  life,  be  natural  too  ?  Your  inmost  consciousness 
denies  this,  and  instinctively  attributes  to  it  a  higher,  nay 
a  divine  origin.     God  hath  given  you  His  Spirit. 

If  I  were  speaking  for  the  purpose  of  logically  convincing 


CERTAINTY.  213 

gainsay ers,  another  course  would  perhaps  be  preferable. 
But  I  am  addressing  myself  to  men  and  women  who  share 
with  me  the  knowledge  of  these  internal  facts,  and  between 
whom  and  me  there  is  only  the  question  how  to  arrange 
them,  and  to  which  set  of  facts  the  greater  importance 
should  be  given.  And  to  them  I  am  trying  to  show  that 
where  a  higher,  holier  state  is  replacing,  or  to  any  con- 
siderable degree  has  replaced,  the  natural,  sinful  one,  there 
they  have  a  right  to  that  triumphant  conviction  of  which 
St.  John  speaks,  because  the  wrong  would  not  be  conquered 
by  the  right  unless  the  right  were  stronger;  or  as  the 
same  Apostle  phrases  it  "Grreater  is  He  that  is  in  us,  than  he 
that  is  in  the  world.  Hereby  know  we  that  we  dwell  in  Him 
and  He  in  us,  because  He  hath  given  us  of  His  Spirit." 
Eightly  viewed,  the  question  as  to  the  genuineness  of  your 
soul's  life  is  not  one  as  to  whether  you  have  become  holy 
enough  to  satisfy  yourself,  but  whether  you  are  growing 
holier  at  all,  or  indeed,  not  even  so  much  as  that,  because 
that  is  a  test  at  times  very  hard  to  apply.  It  is  just  this  : 
do  you  know  and  feel  that  you  are  in  earnest  to  become 
holy.  If  you  know  that,  you  have  the  assurance  of  which 
St.  John  here  speaks.  If  you  know  that,  the  genuineness 
of  your  religious  life  is  sufficiently  proved  ;  and  seriously  to 
doubt  that  God  is  working  in  you  is  sinful  disbelief  of  the 
best  evidence  He  could  give  you. 

But  we  may  go  further  and  find  valuable  truth  in  the 
words  here  chosen,  to  convey  to  the  faithful  heart  a  much- 
needed  lesson.     His  Spirit  which  He  hath  given  us. 

The  Christian  who  longs  to  see,  and  where  he  cannot  see, 
at  least  to  believe,  that  in  the  men  about  him  there  is  more 
good  than  appears  on  the  surface,  often  brings  confusion 
into  his  own  ways  of  regarding  things  by  making  this 


214  CERTAINTY. 

eflfort  amiss.  Let  me  explain  myself.  You  look  out  into 
the  world  around  you,  and  see  many  men  who  exert  them- 
selves nobly  and  vigorously  for  the  good  of  their  fellow- 
creatures.  With  the  pen,  by  laborious,  patient  thought, 
by  devising  new  social  schemes  that  may  make  the  good 
things  of  life  more  accessible  to  all,  and  raise  the  tone  of 
thinking  and  acting, — in  all  these  fields  of  activity  work 
is  done  more  and  more  largely  as  the  world  grows  older. 
You  are  glad  of  it ;  you  rejoice  over  it,  not  only  with  the 
joy  of  feeling  that  after-generations  will  find  the  world  a 
brighter  place  than  their  forefathers  have  done,  but  also 
for  the  conviction  that  the  higher  the  aims  which  men  have, 
and  the  greater  the  opportunities  furnished  them,  the 
arger  the  likelihood  that  they  will  be  Christians.  You 
use  that  word  in  your  thoughts  and  anticipations  because 
to  you  it  means  most  in  the  way  of  happiness  and  good- 
ness. All  such  feelings  are  right,  are  natural  to  him  who 
in  the  love  of  God  for  men  sees  a  larger  ground  for  hope. 
And  to  the  men  too,  who  are  thus  laboring  to  better  the 
world's  condition,  you  must  reach  out  a  cordial  hand  so 
far  as  their  self-sacrifice  extends.  But  when  you  find  that 
they  distinctly  disavow  any  religious  motive  or  object  — 
when,  as  in  the  case  of  a  certain  school  in  England,  or  on 
the  continent,  the  thought  of  God,  or  of  conscience,  or  of 
a  future  life  is  rejected  and  scofied  at — when  the  schemes 
for  reconstructing  society  aim  at  abolishing  all  that  is  best 
and  fairest  now,  from  the  family  down,  it  is  in  but  a  very 
modified  sense  that  you  believe  the  Spirit  of  God  to  be 
working  among  them.  How  shall  you  regard  such?  This 
is  a  question  full  of  difficulty  to  the  Christian  thinker. 
Without  the  grossest  lack  of  charity  he  cannot  deny  them 
great  sincerity  in  their  endeavors.   But  if  he  is  to  recognize 


CERTAINTY.  215 

here  any  further  influence  of  God  than  using  these  men  as 
instruments  for  the  furtherance  of  his  ends,  he  feels  that  he 
must  give  up  all  that  has  grown  clear  to  him  as  to  God's 
working.  He  stands  face  to  face  with  this  alternative : 
shall  I  abandon  all  that  my  deepest  experience  has  proved 
to  me ;  or  shall  I  deny  that  the  spirit  which  leads  to  such 
results  as  these  is  God's  Spirit  ?  The  denial  may  be  made 
with  all  charity ;  but  one  of  these  two  courses  must,  I  think, 
be  taken.  And  the  harm  that  comes  from  trying  to  follow 
neither  to  the  full  is  what  has  led  me  to  speak  of  it  in 
this  connection.  If  you  take  a  position  mid-way  between 
the  two,  you  so  confuse  youi'  religious  beliefs  and  princi- 
ples, that  the  state  of  doubt  as  to  your  own  position  be- 
comes, of  necessity,  almost  habitual.  Unless  (for  your 
own  private  use)  you  define  one  of  these  spirits  to  be,  and 
the  other  not  to  be,  the  Spirit  of  God,  everything  between 
these  two  extremes  may  slowly  become  laudable  and 
proper.  You  may  think  I  am  raising  a  very  unsubstantial 
spectre ;  and  in  some  minds,  no  doubt,  the  danger  is  less 
here  than  elsewhere.  But  I  am  greatly  mistaken  if  those 
who  have  carefully  watched  the  effect  of  these  modern 
influences  on  the  minds  of  the  younger  generation  of  read- 
ing men,  will  not  agree  that  a  loosely  held  religious  belief 
is  very  often  destroyed  in  just  this  way.  Where  the  essen- 
tially supernatural  character  of  religion  is  not  maintained, 
it  has  little  power  of  resistance.  And  therefore  I  would 
urge  the  importance  of  this  phrase  of  St.  John — urge  the 
necessity  in  all  our  thinking  and  doing,  of  regarding  our 
religious  life  as  being  the  work  of  God^s  Spirit  which  He 
hath  given  us. 

I  am  fully  alive  to  the  charge  that  may  be  brought 
against  the  advice  I  have  given,  as  being  peculiarly  full  of 


216  CERTAINTY. 

what  Harriet  Martineau  calls  the  disgusting  selfishness  of 
Christians.  To  urge  men,  for  their  own  peace  of  mind,  to 
set  down  other  laborers  for  human  good,  as  inspired  by  a 
low  spirit, — this  caricature  of  my  advice  is  certainly  loath- 
some enough.  But  after  all,  which  is  best? — to  have 
definite  views  to  live  by,  or  to  find  a  new  Gospel  every 
day  ?  And  I  would  urge  definiteness,  not  only  on  the 
ground  that  without  it  our  highest  aims  as  Christians  are 
terribly  jeoparded,  but  especially  for  the  good  of  others 
— from  the  deepest,  tenderest  regard  for  them.  If  in  any 
degree  we  believe  the  spirit  of  Christianity  to  be  the 
highest  manifestation  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  the  duty  flows 
inevitably  from  this  of  maintaining  it  in  word  and  deed. 
What  would  you  think  of  the  teacher  of  a  school  who 
taught  that  the  sun  moves  round  the  earth,  or  who  left  it  an 
open  question  ?  What  of  a  teacher  of  moral  philosophy 
who  left  undecided  the  propriety  of  lying  and  stealing  ? 
And  every  one  of  us  is  a  teacher,  whose  instructions,  as  I 
am  impelled  again  and  again  to  repeat,  are  heeded.  You 
are  doing  your  fellow-men  the  highest  good  when  you  im- 
press upon  them  most  distinctly  the  truth  that  there  is  a 
God,  and  that  the  Christ  of  the  New  Testament  and  of 
the  Church  is  His  Son.  Amidst  the  jarring  systems  of 
opinion  that  have  their  day  and  cease  to  be  (not  however, 
without  profoundly  influencing  a  generation  for  good  or 
for  evil),  Christianity  still  rears  its  august  form.  Its 
authority  has  been  vastly  weakened  by  internal  divisions ; 
but  hitherto  those  divisions  have  not  been  about  denials  of 
absolutely  essential  truth.  Those  who  most  love  their 
race,  and  would  most  readily  work  for  its  good,  are  they 
who  contemplate  with  deepest  anxiety  the  threatened 
approach  of  the  day,  when  its  adherents  shall  deliberately 


CERTAINTY.  217 

forego  the  power,  and  lose  the  desire,  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  Spirit  of  God  and  the  spirit  of  Belial. 

And  that,  not  from  selfishness,  but  from  love  for  men. 
If  we  love  one  another,  God  dwelleth  in  us,  and  His  love 
is  perfected  in  us.  The  love  that  Christ  bore  to  His  fol- 
lowers. He,  Himself  proposes,  as  the  model  for  our  love 
toward  one  another.  The  life  of  the  individual  believer, 
like  that  of  the  Church  on  earth,  is  full  of  changes  and 
chances  such  as  befall  every  thing  here  and  now.  But  I 
have  tried  to  tell  you  how  God  gives  us  richly  to  enjoy 
the  certainty  that  He  dwells  within  us.  These  very  con- 
flicts that  so  disturb  us  are  the  proof;  for  the  lessening 
power  of  evil  which  still  struggles  against  good  within  us  is 
manifestly  due  to  the  Spirit  which  helpeth  our  infirmities, 
— can  be  due  to  nothing  else  But  we  shall  work  along 
with  Him  best  as  we  learn  more  exactly  what  are  the  good 
works  He  hath  prepared  for  us  to  walk  in ;  as  we  hold  fast 
by  the  truth  He  teaches  us  evermore  firmly  and  clearly. 
And  our  work  as  promulgators  and  heralds  of  His  truth 
will  likewise  be  fruitful  in  direct  proportion  as  we  remem- 
ber the  solemn  responsibility  of  accepting  and  spreading 
nothing  but  what  our  deepest  experience  confirms  as  true ; 
as  agreeable  to  the  wholesome  words  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  the  doctrine  which  is  according  to  godliness. 

Such  is  the  truest  love  to  God  and  man,  and  the  brave, 
manly,  reverential  mood  in  which  we  deal  the  hardest 
blows  at  sin  and  falsehood  without  and  within,  because  we 
glory  in  our  God  and  in  the  calling  wherewith  He  hath 
called  us.  Of  such  a  spiritual  warrior  in  his  conflicts  it 
is  said,  as  of  Sir  Galahad  in  his  earthly  combat, 
10 


218  CERTAINTY. 


His  good  blade  carves  the  casques  of  men, 
His  tough  lance  thrusteth  sure, 

His  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten, 
Because  his  heart  is  pure. 

So  keeps  he  fair  through  faith  and  prayer, 
A  virgin  heart  in  work  and  will. 


